1       : 


presented  to  the 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIEGO 
by 

FRIENDS  OF  THE  LIBRARY 


MR.   JOHN  C.   ROSE 


donor 


MADAME  DE  STAEL 


AN  HISTORICAL  NOTEL. 


BY 


AMELY  BOLTE. 


TBA.NSI.ATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN 


T  H  IE  O  ID  O  It  E       J  O  H  1ST  S  O  INT. 


NEW  YORK: 
G.    P.    PUTNAM    &    SONS,    PUBLISHERS, 

ASSOCIATION  BUILDING,  23o  STREET. 


ENTERED  ACCORDING  TO  ACT  OP  CONGRESS,  IN  TDK  TEAK  1869,  BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM  &  SON, 

m  THE  CLERK'S  OFFICE  OF  THE  DISTRICT  COURT  FOR  THE  SOUTHEKX 
DISTRICT  OF  NEW  YORK. 


STEREOTYPED  BY  PRESS  OF  THE 

DENNIS     BRO'S     &     CO.,  NEW  YORK  PRINTING  COMPANY 

AUBURN.  N.  T.  81,  83,  i  85  CENTRE  ST. 


OOXTEI^TS. 


BOOK  I. 

PA«I 

I.  THE  DEATH  OF  Louis  XV., 1 

II.  NECKER'S  SALON, 10 

HI.  THB  VISIT  TO  THE  SICK-ROOM, 19 

IV.  THE  FESTIVAL, 31 

V.  VOLTAIRE  IN  PARIS, 45 

VI.  THE  FIRST  LAUREL- WREATH, 50 

VII.  A  VISIT  TO  ROUSSEAU, 67 

VHI.  THE  FIRST  POEM^ 78 

IX.  DR.  TRONCHIN, 89 

X.  THE  VILLA  AT  ST.  OTJEN, 97 

XI.  THE  COMMONER  IN  THE  CABINET, 109 

XH.  Louis  PHILIPPE'S  GOVERNESS, 120 

BOOK  II. 

I.  A  VISIT  TO  MARMONTEL, 135 

II.  MARRIAGES  DE  CONVEYANCE, 151 

HI.  THE  HERO  OP  THE  AMERICAN  WAR, 163 

IV.  A  DISAPPOINTMENT, 175 

V.  THE  DINNER  AT  THE  ACADEMY, 185 

VI.  THE  YOUNG  EMBASSADRESS, 196 

VII.  THE  CELEBRATED  LADY, 202 

VTU.  NECKER'S  RETURN  TO  THE  CABINET, 212 

IX,  THE  WINTER  OF  1788, 22J 

X.  THE  PROCESSION, 234 

XI.  THE  FAMINE, 24C 

XII.  NECKERS  TRIUMPHANT  ENTRY  INTO  PARIS, 256 

XIII.  THE  DREAMS  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY, 26(5 

XIV.  'i'liE  TOCSIN  OF  PARIS, S7U 


iV  CONTENTS. 

BOOK  HL 

MM 

L  MADAME  DE  STAEL  AT  COPPET, 287 

n.  BENJAMIN  CONSTANT  DE  REBECQUE, 297 

HI.  THE  FIRST  EMBASSADOB  TO  THE  NEW  REPUBLIC,....  ' 306 

IV.  THE  NEW  PABIS, 815 

V.  GTOI.T  AND  EXPIATION, 325 

VI.  MADAME  DE  MONTESSON, 384 

VII.  PARIS  IN  THE  TEAB  1800, 346 

VIII.  IN  EXILE, 363 

IX.  THREE  MONTHS  AT  WEIMAR, 379 

X.  THE  HYPERBOREAN  Ass, 394 

XI.  AN  EVENING  WITH  HENRIETTA  HERZ, 404 

XII.  MADAME  DE  STAEL'S  JOURNEY  TO  HOME, 413 

TTTT,  NAPOLEON'S  HATRED, 421 

XIV.  PRINCE  AUGUSTUS  AT  COPPET, 432 

XV.  THE  SICK  HERO, 449 

XVI.  THE  FLIGHT, 4G2 

XVTT,  THE  EAGLE  AT  THE  TUILERIES, 471 

XVHI.  THE  LAST  DREAM  oy  LITE, 477 


MADAME     DE     STAEL 


BOOK    I. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

Natura  la  fece  e  poi  rv.ppe  la  stampa.  It  was  a  dull,  close, 
overcast  clay.  A  drizzling  rain  thickened  the  atmosphere  and 
enwrapped  everything  in  a  gray  shroud.  The  first  verdure  of 
May  was  sprouting,  and  the  magnificent,  shade-trees  in  the  gar- 
dens of  the  Tuilcries  raised  their  heads  more  proudly  as  leaf 
after  leaf  shot  forth  from  their  branches  and  hourly  imparted  a 
more  and  more  attractive  appearance  to  them. 

To-day,  however,  no  one  feasted  his  eyes  on  the  fresh  ver- 
dure ;  not  an  idler  wended  his  way  hither ;  not  a  warm  sun- 
beam stole  down  from  the  overcast  sky  to  kiss  away  the  mois- 
ture from  the  young  leaflets. 

The  streets  of  Paris  were  deserted-,  only  pressing  necessity 
could  induce  any  one  to  leave  the  shelter  of  his  roof.  Curiosity, 
generally  so  imperious  a  mistress,  raised  its  voice  but  feebly  in 
the  face  of  the  storm  raging  without,  and  only  a  few  persons 
ventured  into  the  streets  to  inquire  after  the  health  of  Louis 
the  Fifteenth,  who  was  so  dangerously  sick  at  Versailles  that 


2  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

prayers  for  the  salvation  of  his  soul  had  already  ascended  to 
heaven  in  all  the  churches  of  the  capital. 

All  France  was  anxiously  looking  forward  to  the  moment 
when  death  would  free  the  country  from  a  King  who  had 
brought  it  to  the  brink  of  ruin  ;  and  when  the  news  that  Louis 
the  Fifteenth  was  dead,  came  at  last,  the  people  set  no  bounds 
to  their  rejoicings.  All  requirements  of  propriety  were  disre- 
garded ;  the  very  laws  were  powerless  in  the  face  of  this  univer- 
sal exultation ;  and  the  Parisians  laughed,  when,  outwardly  at 
least,  they  should  have  mourned. 

"THE  KING'S  GRANARY  is  FOR  RENT!" 

Such  was  the  inscription  which  a  wit  had  written  in  large 
letters  on  the  entrance  of  the  Halles,  and  all  passers-by  stood 
still  to  enjoy  the  joke. 

His  successor,  it  was  hoped,  would  not  embark  in  corn  spec- 
ulation;?, so  injurious  to  the  welfare  of  the  people ;  the  prices 
of  grain  would  fall,  and  bread  would  be  cheap  ;  the  people  lodked 
forward  to  the  future  with  bright  anticipations  of  better  days. 

."Madame  Du  Barry  had  departed ;  there  was  no  longer  a  Pare 
aux  cerfs;  virtue  and  innocence  were  no  longer  in  danger  of 
falling  victims  to  arbitrariness,  and  law  and  order  were  to  pre- 
vail once  more.  Heartfelt  joy  reigned  everywhere. 

While  such  and  similar  thoughts  engrossed  the  minds  of  the 
people ;  while  the  rich  as  well  as  the  poor  hopefully  looked  for- 
ward to  the  future  ;  while  all  France,  as  if  freed  from  a  heavy 
burden,  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief,  Louis  the  Sixteenth  ascend- 
ed a  throne  which  rested  on  foundations  undermined  by  Vol- 
taire and  the  philosophers  of  the  eighteenth  century,  when  it 
had  need  of  the  strongest  props ;  and  these  the  unfortunate 
King  was  not  to  find  during  the  whole  of  his  eventful  reign. 

The  multitude  was  unable  to  penetrate  the  critical  condition 


THE   DEATH    OF   LOUIS   XV.  3 

of  the  country ;  individuals,  misled  by  appearances,  kept  only 
their  personal  circumstances  in  view  ;  and  the  public  consists 
of  such  individuals. 

Only  thinkers,  philosophers,  and  statesmen,  gravely  exam- 
ined the  true  state  of  affairs,  and  weighed  its  effects  upon  the 
future  of  the  country.  The  results  of  their  investigations  were 
disheartening  in  the  extreme,  and  added  greatly  to  their  appre- 
hensions. 

Among  those  who  inquired  in  this  manner  into  the  condition 
of  France,  at  the  death  of  Louis  the  Fifteenth,  there  was  a  for- 
eigner who,  by  means  of  adroit  commercial  speculations,  had 
succeeded  in  amassing  a  considerable  fortune  in  the  course  of 
a  few  years.  To  be  better  able  to  carry  on  these  speculations, 
he  had  familiarized  himself  with  the  financial  condition  and 
resources  of  the  state ;  and  this  knowledge  taught  him  how 
to  weigh  the  present  with  calmness  and  penetration,  and  to  in- 
quire what  steps  should  be  taken  in  order  to  fill  the  depleted 
treasury.  Little  did  he  imagine,  in  adding  figure  to  figure, 
how  closely  every  cipher  he  wrote  was  to  be  connected  with 
his  own  fortunes.  What  was  now  to  him  a  mere  pastime  to 
while  away  his  leisure  hours,  what  he  hastily  jotted  down  in 
order  to  test  his  own  financial  ability,  was  to  attract  one  day 
the  attention  of  all  Europe,  and  to  become  the  turning-point  of 
his  career. 

The  foreigner  whom  we  see  engaged  in  these  calculations 
at  the  accession  of  Louis  the  Sixteenth,  was  still  in  the  prime 
of  life.  He  was  a  native  of  Geneva,  where  the  Necker  family 
lived  in  somewhat  reduced  circumstances.  Educated  for  the 
mercantile  career,  he  had  gone  to  Paris  at  an  early  age  and 
obtained  a  situation  at  the  counting-house  of  Thellusson,  the 
banker;  afterwards  he  was  also  appointed  Consul  of  Switzer- 
land— an  office  neither  important  nor  lucrative. 


4  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

Young  Necker,  however,  had  already  known  how  to  pro- 
vide for  himself  in  a  different  manner.  He  was  a  born  finan- 
cier, and  circumstances  greatly  favored  his  speculations.  He 
was  not  long  in  amassing  considerable  wealth,  and  married 
Mademoiselle  Curchod,  a  beautiful  young  country-woman  of 
his. 

This  young  lady  was  the  daughter  of  a  Swiss  preacher,  a 
strict  Calvinist,  and  possessed  no  other  fortune  than  the  excel- 
lent education  which  her  father  himself  had  given  to  her.  She 
was  a  most  accomplished  woman,  and  possessed  scientific 
knowledge  such  as  young  ladies  seldom  acquire.  Brought  up 
like  a  boy,  she  was  perfectly  able  to  meet  the  grave  demands 
of  a  life  requiring  her  to  provide  for  herself. 

For  a  time  she  was  at  the  head  of  a  small  school  in  her 
native  country ;  she  then  had  an  opportunity  of  going  to 
Paris  as  companion  to  a  wealthy  lady,  and  here  she  became 
acquainted  with  young  Necker,  whom  she  soon  learned  to  love 
with  all  her  heart.  So  she  was  overjoyed  when  he  proposed  to 
her,  and  she  entered  his  house  as  the  happiest  of  wives. 

A  new  world  arose  before  her  in  the  brilliant  capital  of 
France.  But  what  a  world  it  was !  Brought  up  in  the  aus- 
tere principles  peculiar  to  the  Calvanists  of  the  small  republic 
of  Geneva,  she  wished  beyond  measure  to  see  what  Parisian  soci- 
ety permitted  itself,  and  how  much  those  who  wished  to  belong 
to  the  Bon-Ton  had  to  permit  themselves  ;  and  she  then  began 
to  reflect  on  the  course  she  had  to  pursue  in  order  to  assimi- 
late herself  to  the  peculiarities  of  this  strange  society. 

Ignorant  of  Parisian  manners,  she  possessed  few  of  the  attrac- 
tions peculiar  to  fashionable  French  ladies.  Neither  her  bear- 
ing nor  her  way  of  expressing  herself  indicated  a  woman 
brought  up  in  the  highly  refined  sphere  of  Parisian  society. 
Her  toilet  was  wanting  in  elegance,  her  bearing  in  pleasing,  and 


THE    DEATH    OF   LOUIS    XV.  5 

her  politeness  in  winning  grace  ;  in  short,  her  mind  and  man- 
ners were  too  much  those  of  a  learned  woman  to  appear  to 
great  advantage. 

But,  in  return,  modesty,  candor,  and  kind-heartedness  distin- 
guished her  in  the  most  favorable  manner. 

A  moral  education  and  thorough  instruction  had  fully  devel- 
oped the  noble  gifts  of  her  heart  and  mind.  Her  sentiments 
were  pure  and  faultless  ;  but  she  did  not  know  how  to  express 
them  in  attractive  words. 

Method  and  regularity  were  the  rules  of  her  duties.  Every- 
thing about  her  was  measured  and  systematic ;  even  in  jesting 
she  rarely  exceeded  certain  bounds,  and  used  the  language 
and  tone  of  a  school-mistress  even  in  her  salon. 

She  was  pained  to  notice  how  her  bearing  and  manners  were 
at  variance  with  those  of  other  ladies  of  her  age  ;  and  yet  she 
was  unable  to  bring  about  the  change  for  which  she  longed. 
She  was  anxious  to  please  others,  in  order  to  please  her  hus- 
band the  better.  She  trembled  at  the  thought  that  his  eyes 
might  discover  what  was  wanting' in  her.  She,  therefore,  took 
the  utmost  pains  to  be  amiable,  kind,  and  chatty,  in  order  that 
he,  too,  might  find  her  so ;  unfortunately,  however,  she  was 
unable  to  conceal  these  studied  efforts  from  the  eyes  of  others, 
and  so  they  were  not  appreciated. 

Their  wealth  was  constantly  on  the  increase ;  they  moved 
into  a  very  fine  house,  and  desired  to  extend  the  circle  of  their 
acquaintances.  Necker  himself  was  not  the  man  to  form  a 
brilliant  circle  of  friends.  Educated  for  the  mercantile  career, 
he  was  deficient  in  general  culture.  Accustomed  to  the  myste- 
rious operations  of  the  banking  business,  and  absorbed  in  the 
calculations  of  commercial  speculations,  he  knew  but  little  of 
the  world,  held  intercourse  with  very  few  friends,  had  no  time 
for  reading  books,  and  was  but  superficially  informed  of  what- 


0  MADAME    DE    STAET,. 

soever  was  foreign  to  his  business.  Prudence  and  self-love, 
tberefore,  caused  bim  to  be  reserved  in  conversation,  and  be 
avoided  expressing  bis  views  wbenever  topics  with  wbicb 
he  was  not  familiar  were  alluded  to.  This  reserve  of  his  wa^ 
looked  upon  as  pride,  although  it  was  but  prudence  that  coun- 
seled him  to  keep  silence  whenever  be  knew  bis  knowledge  to 
be  deficient.  , 

Madame  Necker  was  desirous  of  offering  to  her  husband, 
after  his  grave  labors  at  his  counting-house  were  over,  the  recre- 
ation of  a  pleasant  social  circle  in  her  salon.  Her  tastes  caused 
her  to  look  upon  savants  and  artists  as  the  persons  best  fitted 
for  this  purpose ;  but  to  attract  men  of  this  class  was  by  no 
means  easy.  It  is  true,  a  young  and  beautiful  lady  has  many 
opportunities  of  getting  acquainted  with  distinguished  men, 
but  such  acquaintances  rarely  ripen  into  the  sort  of  digni- 
fied intimacy  which  she  was  desirous  to  bring  about ;  and  the 
stiff  and  pedantic  manners  of  the  young  daughter  of  Switzer- 
land seemed  to  add  greatly  to  the  difficulties  of  such  an  under- 
taking. 

She  had  hitherto  had  but  one  friend,  Thomas,  the  academi- 
cian, whose  acquaintance  she  had  formed  at  the  house  of  her 
protectress,  shortly  after  her  arrival  in  Paris.  The  bearing 
and  manners  of  M.  Thomas  were  no  less  formal  than  her  own, 
and  so  she  felt  particularly  attracted  toward  him.  One  day 
she  confessed  to  htm  the  plan  she  had  conceived,  and  the  diffi- 
culties she  would  have  to  meet  in  carrying  it  into  effect. 

That  she  wished  to  exert  a  refining  and  ennobling  influ- 
ence on  her  husband,  and  to  elevate  his  mind  by  bringing 
him  in  contact  with  distinguished  men,  met  with  his  cordial 
approbation,  and  he  promised  to  assist  her  to  the  best  of  his 
ability. 

Whenever  he  was  invited  to  Necker's  house,  he  begged  per- 


THE    DEATH    OP   LOUIS   XV.  7 

mission  to  bring  a  friend  with  him,  and  soon  visitors  were  no 
longer  wanting  to  the  house. 

Madame  Necker  was  overjoyed,  although  she  took  good  care 
not  to  betray  her  exultation.  She  was  too  distrustful  of  her 
tact  to  permit  herself  a  word,  a  remark,  a  smile,  that  was  not 
the  result  of  deliberation,  but  appeared  on  her  lips  on  the  spur 
of  the  moment. 

She  resolved  to  strain  every  nerve  in  order  to  render  her 
house  as  attractive  as  possible  to  the  most  eminent  men ;  but 
it  was  not  for  her  own  sake  that  she  took  this  resolution.  She 
wished  to  see  her  husband  play  a  brilliant  role  ;  she  wished  to 
impart  to  him,  by  means  of  this  social  circle,  a  nimbus  which 
was  to  deceive  him  as  to  his  own  talents,  and  to  make  an  au- 
thor and  litterateur  of  the  banker.  In  this  respect  she  was  an 
excellent  Lady  Macbeth. 

She  never  tired  of  praising  and  encouraging  him.  To  all  ho 
said  and  did,  she  added  comments  surrounding  even  his  most 
insignificant  actions  with  a  radiant  halo.  She  wanted  others 
to  respect,  revere,  and  love  him  as  she  loved  him,  and  she  was 
indefatigable  in  her  efforts  to  convert  the  world  to  her  own 
opinion. 

Necker  did  not  interfere  with  her.  He  silently  accepted  her 
homage,  and  allowed  his  beautiful  yotmg  wife  to  erect  alters  to 
him.  It  is  so  sweet  to  be  praised.  Madame  Necker  knew  the 
secret  of  making  her  wedded  life  a  happy  one,  and  turned  her 
knowledge  to  good  account.  Her  husband,  upon  whom  all 
her  thoughts  and  feelings,  were  concentrated,  could  no  longer 
do  without  her,  and  she  promoted  his  happiness  in  every  pos- 
sible manner. 

She  taught  him  to  believe  in  himself,  and  to  find  in  his  mind 
faculties  whose  existence  he  had  never  suspected  up  to  this 
time ;  she  convinced  him  that  he  was  endowed  with  all  kinds 


8  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

of  talents,  and  that  it  depended  only  on  himself  to  turn  them 
to  account ;  and  the  future  proved  the  power  of  her  love  and 
confidence. 

Necker's  bearing  toward  his  guests  was  stiff  and  reserved. 
His  wife  noticed  it,  and  tried  to  make  amends  for  his  conduct 
by  redoubling  her  own  politeness.  The  conversation  with  their 
visitors  being  left  to  her  alone,  it  was  often  very  difficult  for 
her  to  prevent  unpleasant  pauses ;  and  whenever  the  conversa- 
tion in  her  salon  flagged,  her  uneasiness  and  anxious  air  betray- 
ed the  painful  impression  it  made  upon  her  mind. 

Necker,  however,  seemed  to  notice  neither  her  confusion  nor 
her  generous  efforts ;  and  it  was  this  circumstance  that  com- 
forted her  when,  in  her  despondency,  she  was  ready  to  charge 
herself  with  being  deficient  in  talent  and  vivacity  to  throw  the 
kindling  spark  into  the  midst  of  her  guests. 

Her  caution  always  prevented  her  from  uttering  rash  re- 
marks. 

She  had  given  birth  to  a  daughter  a  year  after  their  wedding. 
The  young  wife  looked  anxiously  at  her  husband ;  she  was 
fearful  lest  a  daughter  should  be  unwelcome  to  him — "God  has 
given  her  to  us,"  he  said  ;  and  with  an  air  of  fervent  gratitude 
he  pressed  the  little  creature  to  his  heart. 

She  was  to  remain  their  only  child. 

Cherished  and  petted,  she  grew  up  a  chubby,  healthy  child, 
with  whom  her  father  liked  to  play  as  soon  as  the  grave  labors 
of  the  day  were  over. 

His  accounts  grew  more  and  more  extensive,  his  calcula- 
tions more  and  more  intricate  and  exhausting;  and,  therefore, 
as  soon  as  he  had  closed  his  books,  he  delighted  in  the  innocent 
prattle  of  his  child. 

The  millions  which  he  had  amassed  by  this  time  rendered  it 
incumbent  on  him  to  be  very  careful  in  the  investments  which 


THE    DEATH    OF    LOUIS    XV.  9 

he  made,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  in  his  financial  operations 
he  never  lost  sight  of  the  political  horizon.  When  Louis  the 
Fifteenth  died,  the  welfare  of  France  was  already  indirectly 
connected  with  that  of  Necker ;  and  as  he  now,  at  the  acces- 
sion of  the  new  sovereign,  examined  the  political  and  financial 
condition  of  the  State  once  more,  self-interest  was  a  leading 
motive  of  his,  and  he  found  that  his  fortunes,  in  a  great  mea- 
sure, were  linked  with  the  fate  of  France. 


CHAPTER  II. 
NECKER'S    SALON. 

FOR  some  time  past,  Madame  Necker  had  received  at  her 
house  every  Friday  a  small  circle  of  friends,  among  whom  there 
were  some  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  that  period.  To-day, 
for  the  first  time,  her  salon  had  remained  deserted,  and  she  now 
turned  her  eyes  toward  the  door,  hoping  that  some  guests 
might  still  enter  the  room. 

Bright  flames  were  blazing  in  the  large  fire-place,  despite  the 
vernal  verdure  in  which  nature  was  already  clad.  Close  to  the 
fire,  his  hands  folded  at  his  back,  stood  M.  Necker,  engaged  in 
an  animated  conversation  with  Baron  Grimm,  whose  effemi- 
nate features,  painted  cheeks,  and  courtly  deportment  contrasted 
singularly  with  the  short,  heavy-set,  and  common-looking  figure 
of  the  honest  Genevan.  They  were  speaking  of  a  topic  which 
engrossed  to-day  the  thoughts  of  all  Parisians.  The  news  of  the 
death  of  King  Louis  the  Fifteenth  had  reached  their  ears,  too, 
and  both  commented  gravely  on  the  condition  of  poor  France 
at  the  close  of  this  long  and  calamitous  reign,  which  Frederick 
the  Great  had  jocularly  called  the  reign  of  the  three  cotillons.* 
Madame  Necker  participated,  to-day,  but  very  little  in  the 
conversation  ;  nay,  contrary  to  her  habit,  she  scarcely  seemed 
to  listen  to  it  attentively.  She  sat  leaning  back  in  her  large 
comfortable  easy-chair  and  played  with  her  fan,  now  opening  it. 
now  closing  it,  and  now  screening  her  eyes  with  it  from  the 

*  "  Mcinoiics  dc  la  Du  Barry."    Vol.  II.,  p.  42.    "Memoires  dc  Madame 

Kcckcr  tic  SmisMiiv.1' 


NECKER'S  SALON.  1 1 

flames  in  tlie  fire-place.  The  expression  of  her  face  showed 
plainly  that  she  was  absorbed  in  reflections  which  carried  her 
far  away  from  what  was  passing  around  her. 

At  her  side,  on  a  small  wooden  footstool,  sat  her  only  child, 
a  little  girl  of  eight,  cutting  all  sorts  of  figures  out  of  a  sheet 
of  paper.  She  had  placed  her  stool  in  such  a  manner  that  the 
back  of  the  easy-chair  covered  her  almost  entirely,  and  concealed 
her  from  the  eyes  of  her  from  whom,  it  seemed,  she  wished  to 
hide  what  she  was  doing.  A  smile  of  satisfaction  lit  up  the 
features  of  the  child.  While  her  full,  fresh  cheeks  crimsoned 
still  more,  she  suddenly  jumped  up  from  her  seat,  and  exclaim- 
ed joyously, "  Oh !  look  at  this,  Papa !  It  looks  just  like  the  lit- 
tle Abbe  Eaynal,  does  it  not  ?  You  would  have  recognized  him, 
I  am  sure,  even  if  I  had  not  told  you  whom  it  is  intended  to 
represent  ?" 

Necker  turned  kindly  to  the  little  girl ;  all  bitterness  and 
gravity  disappeared  from  his  features  as  he  seized  the  paper 
figure  and  said,  "  Indeed,  my  dear  Germaine,  this  is  a  veiy 
pretty  little  figure,  and,  although  it  does  not  resemble  our  friend, 
it  resembles  the  bad  class  of  men  to  whom  he  belongs,  and  who 
are  even  worse  than  he.  Would  to  God  we  had  those  gentle- 
men as  much  in  our  power  as  I  now  hold  this  paper  image." 

These  words  attracted  Madame  Necker's  attention.  She  had 
raised  herself,  so  that  her  exceedingly  tall  hair-dress,  which  was 
adorned  with  plumes  and  bows,  towered  over  the  back  of  her 
easy-chair.  She  exclaimed  in  a  warning,  reproachful  tone, 
"  Germaine,  how  impertinent  you  are !  How  could  you  inter- 
rupt the  very  interesting  conversation  of  the  gentlemen  in  such 
an  absurd  manner  ?" 

"  Never  mind  her,"  said  M.  Necker.  "  She  wanted  some  one 
to  share  her  joy,  and  so  she  went  of  course  to  her  father." 

The  little  girl  fixed  her  large,  black  eyes  with  a  grateful 


12  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

expression  on  M.  Necker,  and  then  quietly  sat  down  again. 
She  knew  that  this  was  the  best  way  of  soothing  her  angry 
mother. 

At  this  moment,  the  door  of  the  salon  opened,  and  several 
guests  entered  without  being  announced.  One  of  them,  a  cor- 
pulent little  man  with  a  light-colored  wig  and  blue  eyes  lying 
deep  in  their  sockets,  hastened  with  a  quick  step  through  the 
room,  bowed  to  Madame  Neeker,  and  seizing  little  Germaine's 
hands,  squeezed  them  heartily,  and  imprinted  a  kiss  on  the  fore- 
head of  the  child,  who  seemed  to  be  accustomed  to  this  affec- 
tionate salute. 

"  How  late  I "  exclaimed  M.  Necker,  as  soon  as  the  new-comer 
turned  to  him.  "  I  thought  already  you  had  been  called  to 
Versailles,  my  dear  Raynal,  to  assist  in  relieving  the  con- 
science of  the  dying  King." 

"  The  King  would  have  rued  it,  for  I  should  have  refused 
him  absolution,"  exclaimed  Raynal,  laughing.  "  Their  maj- 
esties know  already  whom  to  apply  to  under  such  circum- 
stances. But,  although  I  was  not  called  to  Versailles,  I  have 
been  hard  at  work  all  day  for  the  King  in  order  to  he  able  to 
give  full  particulars  of  his  death  in  to-morrow's  issue  of  my 
paper.  His  death  was  very  tragic,  almost  too  tragic  for  a  sim- 
ple mortal.  Providence  might  have  dispatched  two  poor  sin- 
ners with  what  it  inflicted  upon  him  alone.  But  things  that 
have  happened  cannot  be  altered.  He  has  enjoyed  the  good 
things  that  fell  to  his  share,  and  I  do  not  envy  them  to  him." 

"  What  did  you  ascertain  about  him  ?  "  inquired  M.  Necker. 

"  Little  or  much,  as  you  please.  It  was  very  difficult  to  ob- 
tain authentic  news  about  his  condition.  Madame  Helvetius, 
the  Abbe  Morellet,  and  some  other  friends  of  mine,  went  to  dine 
at,  Sevres,  where  they  would  be  closer  to  the  source  of  news  ; 
lor  the  couriers,  who  were  hourly  dispatched  from  Versailles, 


NECKEE'S  SALON^  13 


halted  there  in  order  to  change  horses,  I  was  requested  to 
accompany  them,  and  should  have  done  so  had  I  not  thought 
that  the  trip  would  take  too  much  of  my  valuable  time.  And 
then  they  were  not  very  successful.  Mademoiselle  Espinasse, 
who  was  also  there,  met  me  an  hour  ago,  and  did  not  know 
much  more  about  it  than  I.  I  congratulated  her  on  our  hav- 
ing at  last  been  delivered  from  the  reign  of  the  King's  mis- 
tresses ;  but  she  shook  her  head  and  replied  with  a  very  gloomy 
air,  '  My  dear  Abbe,  the  future  may  have  worse  things  in  store 
for  us.'  *  I  laughed  at  her  fears.  '  You  must  have  a  very  lively 
imagination  to  think  such  things  likely,'  I  replied  to  her.  A 
man  could  not  have  made  that  remark.  The  poor  lady  takes 
too  gloomy  a  view  of  the  new  era  that  is  dawning  upon  us." 

"  And  the  view  you  take  of  it  is  too  rose-colored,"  said  Neck- 
er,  laughing. 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  is  ;  but  then  the  course  of  my  own  life  cer- 
tainly justifies  me  in  taking  such  a  view  of  the  future.  Imag- 
ine the  life  I  led  at  St.  Sulpice's,  where  I  had  to  read  a  mass  for 
eight  sous  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  in  midwinter,  in  order 
not  to  starve  to  death.  What  would  have  become  of  me  but 
for  my  hopes  in  the  future  ?  .  Tell  me,  my  dear  friend  Necker, 
if  any  man  could  have  borne  such  a  life  without  the  firm  con- 
victipn  that  better  days  awaited  hpm  ?  Hope  is  the  most 
essential  element  of  my  life." 

"  Well,  well,  my  dear  Raynal,"  replied  Necker,  gravely  but 
good-humoredly.  "  I  believe  you  found  some  other  means  than 
hope  to  render  your  condition  less  intolerable." 

"  What  if  I  did  ?  Necessity  has  no  law,"  said  Raynal,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  that  is  not  exactly  in  cousonaucc  with 
Christian  principles,"  replied  Necker,  laughing. 
*  "  Mcmoirua  do  1'Abbe  Morcllct,"  p.  25.     Hayniil.  Biographic  Universelle. 


14  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

"  He  who  falls  into  the  water  must  not  ask  what  hand  is  to 
save  him  from  drowning,"  said  the  Abbe,  merrily.  "  As  tin* 
living  acted  so  niggardly  toward  me,  I  had  to  apply  to  the 
dead  ;  and  it  was  this,  I  suppose,  that  you  intended  to  allude 
to  ;  for  the  rest,  it  was  a  mere  trifle,  that  sum  of  sixty  francs, 
for  which  I  permitted  such  a  sinner  to  be  buried  in  consecrated 
ground.  Do  you  not  think  so,  too  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  it  was  very  little,"  replied  Necker,  to  whom 
this  conversation  with  the  Abbe  seemed  to  afford  pleasure ; 
"  and  yet  it  was  enough  to  bring  about  your  removal." 

"  That  was  the  best  effect  it  had ;  for  since  then,  I  am  sure 
I  have  become  another  man,"  replied  the  Abbe,  with  an  air  of 
self-satisfaction.  "  Had  they  not  removed  me,  and  thereby  de- 
prived the  church  of  one  of  its  best  pillars,  I  should  not  have 
become  editor  of  the  Mercure  de  France,  nor  written  my  His- 
tory of  Philosophy.  So  the  world  should  thank  the  church  for 
restoring  me  to  it  that  I  might  glorify  our  enlightened  age. 
But  the  world  is  ungrateful ;  it  does  not  appreciate  its  great 
men  until  they  are  dead,  and  sometimes  not  even  then.  Look 
at  your  free  Switzerland ;  what  has  it  done  for  its  heroes  ? 
What  monuments  immortalize  the  intrepid  soldiers  that  fought 
at  Morgarten,  or  the  names  of  Walter  Furst  and  Tell  ?  '  Ettu 
Brute?  I  might  say  to  yo»  in  this  respect,  and  I  do  not  believe 
you  could  find  a  word  to  defend  yourself." 

"  If  I  could  not,  my  wife  certainly  could,"  replied  Necker, 
laughing.  "  She  will  intrepidly  defend  the  honor  of  her  native 
country.  Let  us  allow  her  to  enjoy  this  little  triumph,  which  I 
gladly  leave  to  her." 

Madame  Necker  did  not  hear  this  remark.  The  tall,  grave 
gentleman  who  had  entered  with  the  Abbe  Raynal,  after  bowing 
to  the  lady  of  the  house,  had  stood  still  beside  her  chair  and 
entered  into  conversation  with  her. 


NECKER'S  SALON.  15 

"  I  had  already  abandoned  the  hope  of  seeing  you  here  to- 
night, Thomas,"  said  Madame  Necker  to  him  in  an  undertone. 

"  It  would  have  been  the  first  time  when  1  should  have  vol- 
untarily renounced  the  pleasure  of  being  in  your  society," 
replied  the  gentleman,  in  the  singularly  emphatic  tone  in 
which  he  uttered  every  word. 

A  smile  of  satisfaction  overspread  the  cold  features  of 
Madame  Necker  at  these  words  ;  but  it  was  not  long  in  disap- 
pearing and  giving  place  to  her  habitual  polite  expression.  She 
replied  in  a  very  calm  tone  : 

"  I  know  how  to  appreciate  your  kindness  toward  me,  my 
dear  Thomas.  However,  it  was  but  natural  for  me  to  suppose 
that  the  curiosity  which  impelled  so  many  persons  to-day  to 
leave  the  city,  and  go  to  meet  the  couriers,  had  induced  you  to 
do  so  too,  especially  as  Madame  Geoffrin  accompanied  that 
party  to  Sevres.  The  greater  is  the  pleasure  which  your  arrival 
affords  me.  I  suppose  you  did  not  dine  at  Sevres,  then  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  exclaimed  Thomas,  gravely.  "  It  was 
nothing  to  me  to  hear  the  news  of  the  King's  death  an  hour 
sooner  or  later ;  and  I  look  upon  the  death  of  a  man — especially 
a  man  upon  whom  such  a  terrible  responsibility  rests  as  upon 
this  King — as  such  a  grave  matter  that  I  cannot  treat  it  as  a 
subject  fit  for  frivolous  conversation." 

"  You  express  my  own  sentiments,"  replied  Madame  Necker, 
approvingly.  "  In  my  own  mind,  too,  the  King's  death  has 
given  rise  to  very  grave  reflections.  Louis  the  Fifteenth 
brought  France  to  the  verge  of  ruin.  How  is  his  successor  to 
save  it  ?  Nothing  but  a  miracle,  it  seems  to  me,  could  do  that ; 
and  miracles,  unfortunately,  do  not  happen  any  longer." 

"  Let  us  hope  for  the  best,"  replied  Thomas,  gravely.  If 
France  has  declined  in  some  respects,  it  has  made  immense 
progress  in  others.  The  sphere  of  science  has  expanded  wonder- 


10  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

fully,  and  the  country  abounds  in  gifted  men,  whose  works 
rank  with  the  best  productions  of  any  age.  Posterity  will  look 
back  with  astonishment  upon  our  glorious  achievements  ;  and 
our  contemporaries  render  already,  well-deserved  homage  to 
the  authors  of  our  great  Encyclopedia.  We  must  not  lose  sight 
of  this,  my  esteemed  friend ;  we  must  not  shut  our  eyes  to  the 
bright  sides  of  our  age,  which  bears  so  many  great  and  prom- 
ising germs  in  its  bosom." 

"  But,  in  return,  it  robs  us  of  something  vital  and  essential — 
of  our  faith  in  the  hand  of  God  in  history.  Science  cannot 
indemnify  the  people  for  what  philosophy  took  from  it ;  for  it 
does  not  enter  the  hearts — it  does  not  reach  the  lower  strata  of 
human  society.  "We  should  not  deceive  ourselves  on  this  head, 
my  excellent  friend." 

"  Science  may  be  popularized,  and  it  will  be,"  replied  Thomas, 
emphatically.  "  The  fruits  which  civilization  matures  are  des- 
tined for  everybody.  Let  us  await  their  ripening.  Nations 
become  what  their  governments  want  to  make  them,  and  ulti- 
mately must  make  of  them.  Rousseau  did  not  write  his  Con- 
trat  Social  and  Emile  in  vain.  The  Government  will  see  that 
poverty*  and  anarchy  are  two  social  Titans  that  can  be  re- 
sisted most  successfully  by  giving  schools  to  the  people." 

A  loud  burst  of  merriment  behind  them  interrupted  them  at 
this  moment.  Little  Germaine  had  crept  close  up  to  the  corpu- 
lent Abbe  and  fastened  a  long  strip  of  paper  to  his  wig. 
"Whenever  the  vivacious  little  man,  in  his  conversation  with 
M.  Necker,  moved  his  head,  the  strip  of  paper  danced  on  his 
black  coat,  and  caused  the  mischievous  girl  to  burst  into  loud 
laughter. 

Madame  Necker  did  not  see  immediately  what  had  happened ; 
she  heard  only  the  merry  laughter  of  her  child,  and  exclaimed 
in  a  grave,  warning  tone,  "  Germaine !  " 


NECKEll's   SALON.  17 

The  little  girl  paused  immediately,  and  concealed  herself 
behind  her  father. 

"  Excuse  niy  daughter's  impertinent  jest,  Abbe,"  said  Mad- 
ame Necker  now  ;  and  rose  to  remove  the  paper  from  his  wig. 
"  The  air  of  France  seems  to  produce  singular  effects.  In  my 
-native  country  no  child  would  dare  to  jest  in  this  manner  with 
a  grave  gentleman.  I  do  not  call  to  mind  a  single  time  when 
even  the  idea  of  doing  such  a  thing  has  occurred  to  me  in  my 
childhood.  Hence,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  how  my 
daughter  can  permit  herself  such  jests;  salutary  exhortations 
are  not  wanting  to  her,  and  I  try  to  educate  her  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  awaken  her  mind,  and  fill  her  with  admiration  for  the 
gifted  men  whom  she  is  fortunate  enough  to  see  at  her  father's 
house.  So  it  is  not  my  fault,  if  her  conduct  is  not  in  keeping 
with  the  pains  I  am  taking  with  her  education." 

"  Wisdom  does  not  come  prematurely,"  said  M.  Necker, 
looking  kindly  at  his  child,  whose  large,  radiant  black  eyes 
gazed  up  to  him  confidingly.  "  You  expect  too  much  of  her. 
Her  thoroughly  healthy  nature  revenges  itself  by  such  little 
jests,  for  which  our  dear  Abbe  will  not  be  angry  with  his  young 
friend." 

Raynal  held  out  his  hand  to  the  child,  who  seized  it  and  warm- 
ly pressed  it  to  her  lips. 

Madame  Necker  shook  her  head  disapprovingly.  "  That 
constantly  overflowing  heart  of  hers ! "  she  said  in  such  a  low 
voice  that  only  Thomas  heard  her  words ;  "  How  is  it  ever  to 
learn  prudence  ?  My  child's  character  refutes  what  Rousseau 
says  about  the  rights  of  nature.  If  I  should  fail  in  compelling 
her  now,  already,  to  regulate  with  her  head  the  pulsations  of 
her  impetuous  heart,  her  unbridled  passions  might  make  her 
one  day  very  miserable.  You  appreciate  my  efforts  in  this 
direction,  do  you  not  ?  You  have  written  such  an  able  history 


18  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

of  our  sex ;  you  have  shown  so  strikingly  what  we  were  at  all 
times,  and,  again,  what  we  should  be;  and  so  urgently  recom- 
mended to  us  moderation  in  all  things.  Would  to  God  I  could 
teach  my  child  to  realize  the  ideal  which  you  have  depicted  to 
us." 

"  In  order  to  do  so,  she  has  only  to  imitate  the  example  you 
set  to  her,"  replied  Thomas  in  a  measured  tone,  strangely  ;il . 
variance  with  the  meaning  of  his  words,  which  did  not  escape 
the  ear  for  which  they  were  destined. 


CHAPTER  IIL 

THE    VISIT    TO    THE    SICK-ROOM. 

A  SERIOUS  malady  had  confined  Madame  Necker  for  several 
weeks  to  her  bed ;  and  when  she  was  out  of  danger,  her  recov- 
ery proceeded  but  very  slowly.  With  great  impatience  she 
looked  forward  to  every  new  day,  hoping  it  would  at  length 
bring  her  the  strength  which  she  needed  so  urgently  to  attend 
to  her  domestic  duties  as  heretofore.  She  was  aware  that  her 
husband  missed  her  very  much;  she  knew  that  her  friends 
painfully  felt  her  absence ;  and  still  her  physician  admonished 
her  to  be  quiet  and  patient ;  still  he  demanded  that  she  should 
take  upon  herself  no  other  task  and  duty  than  that  of  taking 
care  of  her  health. 

Madame  Necker  sighed  at  these  demands.  She  had  con- 
stantly enjoyed  the  best  of  health,  and  could  now  scarcely  bear 
to  be  seen  by  anybody  in  her  present  state  of  weakness. 

Sickness  had  rendered  her  naturally  delicate  complexion  al- 
most transparent ;  her  clear  blue  eyes  seemed  to  have  grown 
larger,  and  the  outlines  of  her  handsome  features  had  become 
more  marked  and  angular.  Stretched  out  on  a  chaise  longue, 
her  head  resting  on  her  small  white  hand,  she  thoughtfully 
gazed  into  vacancy. 

Suddenly  the  door  opened  softly,  and  Necker,  first  looking] 
cautiously  into  the  room  in  order  to  see  if  she  was  asleep,  step- 
ped in. 

"  How  are  you,  my  dear  ?  "  he  asked,  tenderly. 


20  MADAME    I>E    STAEL. 

"  I  am  better,"  she  replied,  kindly.  "  You  shall  not  miss  me 
much  longer." 

"  Hush,  hush,"  he  said  doprecatingly.  "  I  do  not  mean  that. 
But  you  yourself  need  no  longer  to  lead  such  a  solitary  life. 
We  are  at  liberty  to  divert  you— I  and  your  other  friends. 
Thomas  is  down  stairs;  may  he  come  up?" 

"  I  believe  it  will  not  hurt  me  to  see  him." 

"  Very  well,  I  shall  send  him  to  you.  He  can  tell  you  plenty 
of  news." 

"  Oh,  that  is  not  what  I  care  for.  Above  all  things,  I  long 
to  know  what  you,  my  friend,  are  doing.  You  are  silent." 

Necker,  smiling,  pressed  his  finger  to  his  lips. 

"  Then  I  am  not  to  learn  yet  what  the  King  wanted  of  you  ? 
If  he  offered  you  an  office,  and  if  you  accepted  his-  offer  ?  Oh, 
it  is  very  hard  for  a  wife  not  to  be  able  to  stand  by  her  hus- 
band's side  at  the  very  time  when  fate  at  length  bestows  on  him 
the  position  due  to  his  merits,  and  a  career  in  which  he  is  able 
to  turn  his  talents  to  account,  opens  before  him.  How  glad 
I  should  have  been  to  share  all  this  with  you  just  now  !  I 
should  have  cheered  you  in  your  grave  labors,  and  comforted 
j'ou  in  your  struggle  with  the  difficulties  with  which  your 
path  is  beset.  And  now  I  am  lying  here,  not  only  helpless, 
but  in  need  of  help.  When  I  call  to  mind  how  much  you  have 
done  for  me,  how  I  owe  all  my  happiness  to  you  alone,  and 
how  greatly  I  shall  always  be  indebted  to  you,  it  is  mortifying 
to  me  in  the  extreme  to  be  unable  to  show  you  how  faithful 
and  affectionate  a  wrife  you  possess  in  me.  Do  not  pay  any 
attention  to  what  the  doctor  says,  Necker.  Pray,  do  not  heed 
him !  Speak  to  me,  confide  in  me !  Where  could  you  find 
anybody  worthier  of  your  confidence?  Do  not  go  with  your 
cares  to  strangers ;  do  not  accustom  yourself  to  confide  to 
others  what  I  alone  should  know." 


THE    VISIT   TO    THE    SICK    ROOM.  21 

"  See,  see  how  greatly  my  mere  presence  excites  you,"  gently 
said  M.  Necker,  laying  his  hand,  as  if  soothingly,  on  the  higli 
and  beautiful  forehead  of  his  wife.  "  Have  patience  for  a  few 
days  yet,  and  you  shall  know  all ;  you  shall  share  my  cares  as 
formerly,  and  I  hope  my  joys  too.  In  the  meantime,  I  am 
taking  pains  to  pursue  a  course  worthy  of  you,  dearest.  I  hope 
you  will  approve  it." 

"  Necker ! "  exclaimed  his  wife,  gazing  at  him  with  a  touch-  r 
ing  expression  of  tenderness,  while  she  drew  his  hand  from 
her  forehead,  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips.    "  I  do  not  deserve  so 
much  kindness.     So  you  are  content  with  what  has  happened 
to  you  recently  ?  " 

"  I  am  as  content  as  a  man  who  is  going  to  perform  impor- 
tant duties  should  be.  But  where  is  Germaine  ?  Marmontcl 
is  waiting  for  her  in  the  solan." 

"  She  is  in  her  room.  It  is  so  difficult  for  her  to  be  as  quiet 
as  I  have  to  ask  her  to  be  ;  so  I  sent  her  to  her  own  room.  I 
grieve  very  often,  Necker,  to  see  that  my  education  does  not 
bear  the  fruits  which  I  expected.  I  am  quite  unable  to  over- 
come the  child's  impulsive  nature." 

"  Pray  do  not  even  attempt  to  do  so,  dearest.  Your  daughter 
is  her  father's  image ;  I  recognize  myself  daily  more  and  more 
in  her ;  so  you  would  pay  me  a  very  sorry  compliment  by  tell- 
ing me  that  you  dislike  the  peculiarities  of  her  nature.  Every 
tree  has  a  bark  of  its  own.  Just  give  her  full  liberty,  and  you 
will  live  to  see  the  day  when  she  will  bear  the  most  splendid 
fruits.  But  this  is  likewise  a  point  on  which  we  shall  no 
longer  converse." 

lie  imprinted  a  kiss  on  her  forehead  and  left  the  room. 

A  few  minutes  afterward,  Thomas  came  in.  He  saluted  his 
fair  friend  gravely,  pressed  her  hand  respectfully  to  his  lips, 
and  moved  a  chair  to  her  side. 


22  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

"  How  long  it  is  since  we  have  met,"  said  Madame  Necker. 
"  I  was  already  prepared  to  set  out  on  my  last  journey.  But 
God  has  been  merciful  enough  to  postpone  it  for  the  present." 

"  M.  Necker  requested  me  to  cheer  you ;  to  divert  you  by  tell- 
ing you  some  entertaining  news,  and  to  avoid  any  serious  con- 
versation. Permit  me  to  fulfill  his  wish  that  it  may  be  vouch- 
safed to  me  to  pay  frequent  visits  to  your  sick-room.  It  was 
very  painful  for  me,  during  the  last  few  weeks,  to  feel  that 
I  had  no  right  to  offer  you  services  which  my  sympathy 
prompted  me  to  render  to  you.  Grant  me  now  at  least  the 
comfort  of  being  the  first  who  may  devote  himself  to  your  en- 
tertainment," said  Thomas,  in  a  mild  and,  withal,  grave  tone. 

There  was  a  pause.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  Madame 
Necker  was  at  a  loss  for  a  reply.  In  her  confusion,  she  played 
with  the  sky-blue  blanket  that  had  been  wrapped  around  her 
feet,  and  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand. 

"  Did  you  deliver  any  speeches  at  the  Academy  while  I  was 
sick  ?  "  she  asked,  after  a  while. 

"  None  of  any  importance,"  he  replied,  "  I  was  too  deeply 
afflicted  at  the  loss  of  Madame  Geoffrin ;  and  however  earnestly 
I  strove  to  compose  myself,  I  was  unable  to  concentrate  my 
mind  on  a  subject  that  was  not  so  dear  to  my  heart.  So  I  have 
left  it  to  time  to  accomplish  what  my  will  was  unable  to  do, 
and  meanwhile  confined  myself  to  working  at  the  pages  which 
D'Alembert,  the  Abbe  Morellet,  and  I  are  going  to  devote  to 
her  memory." 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  read  them  ?  " 

"  It  will  afford  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  lay  them  at  your 
feet  as  soon  as  they  are  printed." 

"  The  death  of  our  lamented  friend  will  leave  a  considerable 
gap  in  our  circle,  particularly  as  we  have  lost  Mademoiselle 
D'Espinasse,  whose  wit  and  amiability  we  admired  so  much. 


THE    VISIT   TO    THE    SICK    ROOM.  23 

Who  is  now  to  lead  our  conversation  as  she  used  to  do  ?  Her 
loss  is  irreparable ;  and  I  have  been  told  she  died  in  such  a 
terrible  state  of  mind ! " 

"  It  is  but  too  true.  They  say  that  she  had  bestowed  her 
affections  on  a  gentleman  who  did  not  love  her." 

"  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  how  any  lady,  of  genuine  sen- 
sibility, can  do  so.  Perhaps  the  malicious  world  charges  her 
falsely  with  this  inexcusable  weakness." 

"  No,  I  believe  the  charge  is  true.  It  can  be  substantiated. 
For  the  rest,  this  was  not  the  first  time  when  her  heart  led  her 
astray  in  this  manner.  I  have  been  assured  that  she  bestowed 
her  affections  on  other  gentlemen,  too,  who  refused  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  her." 

"  Impossible ! "  exclaimed  Madame  Necker,  in  surprise. 

"Why  should  it  be  impossible?"  asked.  Thomas.  "The 
same  thing  happens  so  often  to  us  men,  that  we  can  understand 
very  well  how  a  lady  may  rashly  fall  in  love  with  us." 

"  And  the  news  that  you  were  going  to  tell  me  ?  "  said  Mad- 
ame Necker,  in  order  to  turn  the  conversation  into  another 
channel. 

"  I  have  plenty  of  news  to  tell  you  ;  only  I  must  reflect  where 
I  had  better  begin.  Gluck  and  Piccini  are  still  waging  their  mu- 
sical war ;  and  inasmuch  as  our  young  Queen  Marie  Antoinette 
is  of  course  very  fond  of  German  music,  and  intent  on  bring- 
ing about  its  triumph,  intrigues  and  all  sorts  of  manoeuvres  to 
gain  over  adherents  to  either  side,  are  not  wanting.  At  the 
Academy,  in  the  coffee-houses,  and  at  the  literary  soirees, 
everybody  speaks  of  this  subject.  A  great  many  persons  are 
afraid  of  inviting  guests,  lest  they  should  quarrel  about  Gluck 
and  Piccini,  whose  '  musical  war '  has  greatly  disturbed  the 
harmony  of  our  social  life.  Everybody  is  expected  to  side 
either  with  Gluck  or  Piccini,  and  is  judged  accordingly.  Our 


24  MADAME    J)K    STAEL. 

friend  Marmontcl  has  declared  in  favor  of  Piccini,  and  has 
ever  since  been  on  the  qui  vice.  The  best  thing  one  can  do  is 
to  avoid  the  subject  entirely ;  for  the  exasperation  of  the  two 
parties  has  already  reached  the  highest  pitch,  especially  since 
the  performance  of  Armide." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it.  Such  difficulties,  even  after  the 
cause  has  disappeared,  leave  a  great  deal  of  irritation  in  the 
hearts  of  the  contending  parties.  Now  tell  me  something 
more  pleasant." 

"  Let  me  speak,  then,  of  Voltaire,  whose  wit  is  as  keen  and 
inexhaustible  as  ever.  He  is  very  anxious  to  go  to  Paris,  and 
hopes  that  his  friends  will  encourage  him  to  undertake  the 
journey.  Louis  the  Sixteenth  will  not  prevent  him." 

"  At  his  age !  He  is  soon  going  to  celebrate  his  eighty-fourth 
birth-day." 

"  Nevertheless,  he  is  still  as  vigorous  as  a  young  man.  In  a 
very  short  space  of  time  he  recently  wrote  three  pamphlets 
and  completed  two  tragedies.  He  is  intent  on  having  his 
Irene  and  Alexis  performed  in  Paris.  The  other  day,  at.  Fer- 
ney,  he  read  them  to  his  friends  until  2  o'clock  in  the  morning ; 
he  then  went  to  bed  and  rose  at  nine  as  well  and  wide-awake 
as  ever.  What  do  you  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  It  is  wonderful,  like  the  hale  old  man." 

"  Let  me  read  to  you  now  an  article  which  he  sent  us  the 
other  day  for  publication  in  the  Courier  de'F  Europe.  The 
very  style  shows  that  Voltaire  wrote  it : 

"'Louis  the  Fifteenth  one  evening  took  supper  with  a  few 
intimate  friends  at  Trianon;  they  conversed  about  hunting; 
and  gunpowder  having  been  mentioned,  one  of  the  guests  said 
it  was  a  composition  of  saltpetre,  sulphur,  and  charcoal.  The 
Duke  de  la  Valliere  asserted  that  good  artillery  powder  con- 
sisted of  one  part  sulphur,  as  much  charcoal,  and  five  pails 


THE   VISIT  TO   THE   SICK   KOO3I.  25 

saltpetre,  dissolved  in  well-filtered,  well-evaporated  aud  well- 
crystalized  nitre.' 

"  '  How  ludicrous  it  is,'  said  the  Duke  de  Nivernois,  *  that 
we  should  daily  shoot  grouse  in  the  park  at  Versailles,  aud 
sometimes  kill  men  or  be  killed  in  the  same  manner,  without 
knowing  the  material  with  which  it  is  done,' 

"'Oh,  that  is  not  so  very  wonderful,'  replied  Madame  de 
Pompadour;  *  I  do  not  know  either  how  the  rouge  with  which  * 
I  paint  my  cheeks  is  made,  and  I  should  be  in  a  tempest  of 
perplexity  were  I  to  explain  how  the  silken  stockings  which  I 
wear  on  my  feet  are  made.' 

"  '  What  a  pity  it  is,'  said  the  Duke  de  la  Valliere,  'that  his 
Majesty  the  King  confiscated  the  Dictio»nmre  Encyclopedique, 
for  which  we  had  paid  one  hundred  Louis  t?0r*  ;  it  contained 
answers  to  all  our  queries,' 

"  The  King  defended  the  confiscation.  He  had  been  informed 
that  the  twenty-one  folio  volumes  which  were  to  be  found  on 
the  dressing-table  of  every  lady,  contained  many  things  highly 
dangerous  to  the  State;  so  he  had  resolved  to  examine  the 
book  before  permitting  any  one  to  read  it 

"Toward  the  close  of  the  supper  he  ordered  a  page  to  fetch  a 
copy  of  the  dangerous  work;  three  footmen  carried  the  twenty- 
one  large  volumes  into  the  room. 

"  They  looked  for  the  article  on  gunpowder  and  found  that 
the  Duke  de  la  Valliere  had  been  right  Madame  de  Pompa- 
dour read  the  article  on  rouge,  and  found  that  the  Parisian 
paint  contained  cochineal;  and  that  used  by  the  ladies  of 
Madrid,  saffron. 

"She  found  how  her  stockings  were  woven,  and  the  ingfiii- 
x)us  process  filled  her  with  the  utmost  astonishment 

" '  What  a  beautiful  book  ! '  she  exclaimed ;  '  Sire,  you  con- 
fiscated this  encyclopedia  of  the  most  useful  knowledge,  only 


26  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

in  order  to  possess  it  alone,  and  to  become  the  only  Savant  in 
your  kingdom.' 

"  All  of  the  guests  wished  to  examine  the  volumes ;  they 
pounced  on  them,  as  the  sons  of  Ly corned es  did  on  the  riches 
of  Ulysses.  They  found  everything  in  the  book ;  those  who 
had  lawsuits  pending  could  see  already  what  the  judgment 
would  be.  The  King  found  in  them  an  enumeration  of  all  the 
prerogatives  of  his  crown.  'In  truth,'  he  said,  'I  am  at  a 
loss  to  understand  how  the  ministers  could  tell  me  that  this 
was  a  dangerous  book.' 

" '  They  did  so  only  because  it  is  an  excellent,  work,'  replied 
,the  Duke  de  Nivernois.  '  They  would  not  have  raised  their 
voices  against  a  trashy  or  indifferent  book.  When  ladies  de- 
cry one  of  their  sex,  you  may  be  sure  that  she  is  more  beauti- 
ful or  brilliant  than  her  adversaries.' 

"  Meanwhile  the  guests  continued  turning  over  the  volumes, 
and  Count  C.  said  in  a  loud  voice:  'It  was  fortunate  for  you, 
Sire,  that  during  your  reign  there  were  men  who  possessed  so 
much  knowledge  and  handed  it  down  to  posterity.  These 
volumes  contain  everything,  from  the  manufacture  of  guns 
down  to  the  art  of  making  pins,  from  the  greatest  down  to 
the  most  insignificant  things.  You  ought  to  be  thankful  to 
God  for  causing  men  to  be  born  in  your  kingdom  to  render 
such  services  to  humanity.  The  other  nations  will  have  to 
buy  or  re-print  this  encyclopedia.  Deprive  me  of  all  my  es- 
tates, Sire,  but  pray  leave  me  my  encyclopedia.' 

"  '  But  I  have  been  told,'  replied  the  King, '  that  this  useful 
and  excellent  work  is  full  of  errors.' 

" '  Sire,'  said  Count  C.,  '  there  were  on  your  supper-table 
to-night  two  bad  dishes  which  we  did  not  touch  ;  nevertheless ' 
we  had  an  excellent  supper.  Did  you  want  us  to  throw  the 
whole  repast  out  of  the  window  on  account  of  those  two  dishes  ? ' 


THE    VISIT   TO   THE    SICK    ROOM.  27 

"  The  King  acknowledged  the  force  of  this  argument.  The 
books  were  restored  to  their  owners.  Thus  closed  this  pleas- 
ant day. 

"  But  envy  and  ignorance  would  not  put  up  with  their  dis- 
comfiture ;  these  two  immortal  sisters  continued  their  hue  and 
cry,  their  cabals,  their  persecutions ;  ignorance  is  never  at  a 
loss  for  means  when  it  is  determined  to  fight. 

"  What  was  the  consequence  ? 

"  The  work  prohibited  in  France  had  four  large  editions 
abroad,  and  yielded  its  publishers  the  enormous  profit  of 
eighteen  hundred  thousand  dollars." 

"  Excellent ! "  said  Madame  Necker,  when  Thomas  had  con- 
cluded, and  put  the  journal  containing  Voltaire's  article  into  his 
pocket ;  "  and  you  read  it  so  as  to  add  to  its  impressiveness." 

"  You  are  kind  enough  to  praise  what  my  position  requires 
me  to  possess." 

"  Did  Turgot  really  resign  his  portfolio  ?  Who  is  his  suc- 
cessor ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  or  rather,  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  tell  you," 
replied  Thomas,  smiling.  "  Your  physician  does  not  want 
anybody  to  talk  politics  with  you,  because  your  nerves  cannot 
bear  it  yet ;  so  an  academician  has  been  sent  to  you.  Science 
does  not  excite,  it  soothes." 

"  Something  has  happened,  I  know  it,"  replied  Madame 
Necker,  excitedly.  "  The  King  sent  for  Necker.  I  remember 
it  distinctly;  I  know  that  it  is  not  a  mere  fancy  of  mine;  I  know 
that  he  dressed  for  the  purpose  of  appearing  before  his  majesty. 
But  that  is  all  I  am  able  to  call  to  mind,  and  no  one  will  tell 
me  the  result  of  the  audience.  Dear  Thomas,  do  you  not  know 
of  a  way  to  restore  my  health  at  the  earliest  moment,  that  my 
friends  need  no  longer  conceal  from  me  what  I  long  so  intensely 
to  learn  ?  " 


28  MADAME    DE    8TAEL. 

"  Indeed  I  ani  happy  enough  to  be  able  to  serve  you  in  this 
respect,"  he  replied,  playfully.  "  There  has  recently  arrived  in 
our  city  a  stranger — Mesmer  is  his  name — who  influences  his 
patients  by  touching  them  with  the  tip  of  his  finger,  or,  if  they 
prefer,  by  means  of  the  notes  of  his  harmonica,  and  gives  them 
or  frees  them  from  any  disease  they  please.*  This  gentleman 
has  already  created  a  great  sensation  in  Germany.  What 
injures  him  here  is  the  fact  that  he  displaj's  so  little  wit 
and  imagination.  Even  a  doctor  like  him  can  no  longer 
succeed  in  Paris  without  possessing  remarkable  accomplish- 
ments." 

"  But  what  is  his  wonderful  power  based  on  ?  "  asked  Madame 
Necker.  "  If  he  should  not  experiment  on  me  in  a  manner  in- 
jurious to  my  health,  I  should  gladly  permit  him  to  cure  me  in 
his  singular  way." 

"  His  opinion  is  that  there  is  yet  an  unknown  element  influ- 
encing and  affecting  our  nerves ;  according  to  this  principle 
there  is  also  a  reciprocal  action  between  organic  as  well  as  in- 
organic bodies.  There  is  also  a  power  of  attraction,  similar  to 
that  of  the  magnet,  between  different  human  beings.  It  is  this 
animal  magnetism,  whose  mysterious  effects  he  has  discovered, 
that  he  now  uses  in  curing  diseases.  What  principles  he  fol- 
lows in  this  respect  he  will  explain  to  you  personally  when  he 
tests  his  art  in  your  own  case.  Let  me  mention,  however,  that 
he  has  found  in  Paris  many  persons  on  whom  he  is  unable  to 
produce  any  effect,  and  I  am  afraid  he  will  make  the  same  dis- 
covery in  your  case." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so?  Why  is  Paris  so  unfavorable 
to  his  cures  ?" 

"  Because  the  currents  of  life  are  too  violent  and  impetuous 
here;  we  Parisians  do  not  easily  yield  to  our  emotions,  and  do 

*  "  Correspomlance  Litteraire  de  Grimm  et  Diderot."    B.  iv.,  p.  218. 


THE    VISIT   TO    THE    SICK    ROOM.  20 

not  suffer  ourselves  very  often  to  be  carried  away  by  our  ima- 
gination." 

"  And  you  think  Dr.  Mesmer's  whole  art  rests  on  nothing 
but  that  ? " 

"  I  am  satisfied  of  it.  Besides,  Prince  Gonzaga  has  arrived 
with  his  wife,  Gorilla,  the  celebrated  improvisatrice,  who  was 
crowned  in  Rome.  You  may  imagine  the  sensation  which  she 
is  creating  in  society.  All  fashionable  ladies  and  gentlemen  are 
flocking  to  her;  all  are  desirous  to  form  her  acquaintance  and 
hear  her;  our  friend  Marniontel  is  one  of  her  most  enthusiastic 
admirers." 

"  I  hope  she  will  remain  for  some  time  in  Paris ;  for  I  should 
like  to  take  my  daughter  to  one  of  her  performances.  I  wish 
to  make  Germaine  acquainted  with  distinguished  ladies,  that 
she  may  imitate  the  example  which  they  set  to  her.  If  we  have 
no  goal  before  us,  the  path  which  we  pursue  often  seems  to 
us  so  long  and  dreary ;  mere  duty  possesses  too  few  attractions 
for  the  singular  character  of  my  child." 

"  You  wish  to  educate  your  daughter  so  as  to  make  a  famous 
lady  of  her.  Is  not  thirst  for  fame  a  passion,  too  ? " 

"  You  will  admit  at  all  events  that  it  is  a  noble  one." 

"  But  withal  a  very  dangerous  one ;  for  it  lives  more  than  any 
other  on  the  applause  of  the  multitude." 

"  At  all  events,  I  am  anxious  to  prevent  her  imitating  the 
example  of  the  Parisian  women,  who  love  with  their  heads  and 
think  with  their  hearts.     You  know  it  was  the  Neapolitan 
Embassador  who  said  this  of  us."  * 
,     "  I  remember ;  but  I  do  not  believe  that  he  included  you." 

Madame  Necker  blushed  slightly. 

"And  how  is  our  friend  Rousseau ?  Have  you  seen  him 
recently  ?  " 

*  "  Grimm's  Memoirs."    B.  iv. 


30  MADAME    BE    STAEL. 

"  He  is  not  in  Paris ;  he  is  at  Ermenonville,  and  I  have  been 
told  that  he  has  become  quite  a  hypochondriac.  There  is  a 
report  that  his  confessions  are  about  to  be  published  in  Holland ; 
but  he  himself  denies  it,  and  says  if  the  report  is  correct,  some- 
body must  have  purloined  his  manuscript.  Doctor  le  Begue  do 
Presle,  his  intimate  friend,  rode  out  the  other  day  to  his  house 
in  the  country.  When  he  inquired  for  Rousseau,  the  philoso- 
pher crawled  out  of  his  cellar.  Le  Begue  de  Presle  reproved 
him  for  not  leaving  such  little  domestic  duties  at  his  age  to 
Madame  Rousseau.  "  Oh,"  he  replied,  "  when  she  goes  down 
to  the  cellar,  she  does  not  come  back." 

"  Poor  man  !  I  wish  we  could  render  him  some  assistance  and 
add  to  his  comfort.  But  he  rejects  all  offers." 

"  And  what  is  worse,  such  offers  irritate  him  and  often  make 
him  seriously  angry.  So  we  have  to  leave  him  alone." 

"  But  will  posterity  not  condemn  us  for  it  ?  People  at  a  dis- 
tance do  not  see  the  difficulties  obstructing  our  path." 

"  There  are  too  many  proofs  in  existence  to  justify  our  course. 
But  the  hour  during  which  I  was  allowed  to  stay  with  you  has 
expired.  I  will  not  exceed  it,  lest  the  physician  should  forbid 
me  to  visit  you  again." 

He  bowed  and  left  the  room.  Madame  Necker  looked  thought- 
fully after  him. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  FESTIVAL. 

M.  NECKEB,  wished  to  celebrate  the  recovery  of  his  wife  by 
giving  a  brilliant  festival,  which  was  to  take  place  on  the  clay 
when  she  would  first  resume  her  place  in  the  midst  of  her 
social  circle,  and  which  was  to  show  her  in  a  touching  manner 
how  dear  she  was  to  her  family  and  to  her  acquaintances.  All 
had  taken  pains  to  contrive  some  little  surprise  and  attention 
for  her;  above  all,  Germaine  could  hardly  await  the  hour  when 
her  mother  would  enter  the  festooned  salon  where  her  daughter 
was  to  wish  her  joy  of  her  recovery.  Dressed  in  white,  her 
dark  hair  adorned  with  roses,  she  had  been  there  for  an  hour 
already,  counting  the  minutes  up  to  the  moment  when  her 
mother  would  make  her  appearance.  In  her  hand  she  held  a 
sheet  of  paper,  on  which  she  fixed  her  dark  eyes  every  now  and 
then,  as  if  trying  to  engrave  the  words  written  on  it  once  more 
upon  her  memory.  Marmontel,  Grimm,  and  Thomas  were  en- 
gaged in  an  animated  conversation  in  one  of  the  window-niches. 
They  had  been  invited  to  take  dinner  with  the  family,  while 
the  other  guests  were  not  to  make  their  appearance  till  a  later 
hour. 

M.  Necker  had  gone  to  his  wife's  room  in  order  to  conduct 
her  to  the  salon.  He  had  likewise  prepared  for  her  a  little  sur- 
prise, which  he  now  wished  to  communicate  to  her  alone.  He 
entered  her  room  with  a  solemn  air;  but  no  sooner  had  his  eyes 
fallen  on  her,  than  he  forgot  what  he  had  intended  to  say  to 


32  MADAME    DE    STAEI* 

lier,  and  silently  stood  still  before  her.  For  the  first  time  since 
her  sickness  she  was  richly  dressed,  and  hud  chosen  for  her 
costume  a  color  which  she  had  never  worn  before.  Crimsou 
satin  sits  well  on  blondes  only  when  their  complexion  is  fault- 
less. The  almost  transparent  paleness  of  her  skin,  caused  by 
her  long  confinement  in  the  sick-room,  now  produced  the  most 
favorable  effect ;  at  the  same  time  her  fine  blue  eyes  beamed  so 
brightly,  and  she  looked  so  serene  and  animated  in  the  blissful 
consciousness  that  her  former  position  at  the  head  of  her  do- 
mestic and  social  circle  would  be  restored  to  her,  that  her  ap- 
pearance made  a  most  fascinating  impression. 

"  How  beautiful  you  are  ! "  said  M.  Necker,  at  last,  gazing  at 
the  tall,  queenly  form  of  his  charming  wife.  "  Sickness  has 
certainly  not  impaired  your  charms." 

She  laid  both  hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  gazed  tenderly  into 
his  eyes. 

"  Beauty  and  charms  will  pass  away  very,  very  soon ;  for  this 
reason,  my  dearest  friend,  pray  do  not  love  in  me  only  that 
which  is  perishable,  but  also  that  which  connects  us  for  all  time 
to  come.  I  must  be  the  friend  of  your  soul,  an  echo  of  your 
better  self,  if  I  am  to  look  forward  to  the  future  with  courage 
and  confidence." 

"  You  are  to  me  all  that,  as  sure  as  I  live,"  said  Necker, 
gravely.  "You  have  but  one  fault,  and  that  is,  that  you  will 
never  allow  us  to  exercise  the  sweet  privilege  of  forgiveness 
toward  you,  too.*  He  who  now  and  then  has  need  of  our  in- 
dulgence, thereby  endears  himself  to  us." 

"  That  is  a  harsh  remark,  my  friend.  Then  I  should  have  to 
be  less  perfect  in  order  to  please  you  still  better  ?  How  easy  it 
would  be  for  me  to  play  such  a  game !  But  suppose  I  should 

*  "Notico  stir  le  Caractere  et  tee  Ecrit&  tie  Madame  de  StaeL"  Vol.  L, 
p.  20. 


THE   FESTIVAL.  33 

make  this  first  little  deviation  from  the  true  path,  how  difficult 
it  would  be  for  me  to  retrace  my  steps  !  I  know  myself.  I  am 
unable  to  take  a  light-hearted  view  of  life;  what  I  am,  1  am 
with  all  my  heart.  Let  me,  then,  belong  to  virtue,  and  devote 
myself  with  all  my  heart  to  it  and  to  you.  Believe  me,  my 
Mend,  it  will  be  none  the  worse  for  you." 

"  As  if  I  did  not  know  that,  my  dearest  wife.  Besides,  my 
censure  was  half  a  jest.  But  pray  be  seated  now,  and,  to  show 
you  how  much  I  have  missed  you,  let  me  relate  to  you  how 
much  fate  has  suddenly  elevated  me,  and  what  I  have  been 
obliged  to  undertake  and  perform  without  your  advice.  The 
King  has  sent  for  me,  and  intrusted  the  Finance  Department 
to  me." 

"  I  guessed  it,  I  guessed  it,"  exclaimed  Madame  Necker, 
jubilantly. 

"  All  France,  nay,  the  whole  world,  has  now  fixed  its  eyes 
on  me,  and  calls  upon  me  to  save  this  country.  I  am  as  sensi- 
ble of  the  burden  of  my  responsibility  as  any  man  can  be  ;  and 
it  added  greatly  to  the  gloom  with  which  my  solicitude  for  you 
filled  me  during  your  sickness.  It  was  a  sad,  sad  time  for  me. 
Thank  God,  the  gloom,  has  cleared  away,  and  daylight  sur- 
rounds me  once  more." 

"  And  what  did  you  propose  to  the  King  ?  What  changes 
have  you  made  ?  "  excitedly  exclaimed  Madame  Necker,  seizing 
her  husband's  hand,  and  holding  it  between  both  of  hers. 

"  I  see  that  even  now  this  intelligence  excites  you  greatly ; 
I  was  right,  therefore,  in  withholding  it  from  you,"  said  M. 
Necker,  gravely.  "  Now  you  shall  know  all  that  has  happened ; 
only  let  us  not  allude  to  it  any  more  to-day.  Enjoy  your- 
self to-day,  dearest;  rejoice  in  the  knowledge  that  your  am- 
bitious plans  concerning  me  have  been  realized,  and  that  a 
vast  field  where  I  am  able  to  prove  whether  or  not  I  really 
2* 


34  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

possess  the  talents  which  you  attribute  to  me,  has  been  opened 
to  me." 

"  Tell  me  only  one  thing :  Is  the  King  content  with  you  ? 
How  does  he  treat  you  ?  How  does  he  behave  himself?  " 

"  Exceedingly  well.  I  am  a  foreigner  and  Protestant ;  I  had 
not  yet  filled  any  office  here  .except  representing  little  Switzer- 
land in  this  city ;  so  great  prejudices  had  to  be  overcome." 

"  The  greater  the  honor  that  awaits  you." 

"  The  more  difficult,  also,  my  position,  dearest.  But,  thank 
God,  I  have  hitherto  been  exceedingly  successful.  All  the 
world  is  praising  me.  The  public  credit  is  gaining  strength, 
the  financial  condition  of  the  country  is  daily  improving,  every 
new  decree  eradicates  old  abuses,  and  we  are  fighting  with  fire 
and  sword  the  abominable  practice  which,  for  centuries  past, 
have  prevailed  in  the  administration  of  France.  I  have  estab- 
lished a  new  system  of  administration  in  Berry,  which  has  cre- 
ated a  great  sensation.  All  Paris  is  full  of  it.  You  will  now 
hear  people  talk  a  great  deal  about  your  husband.  But  you 
must  expect,  too,  to  hear  many  of  them  comment  unfavorably 
on  the  course  I  am  pursuing.  There  is  no  light  without  shade ; 
and  the  brighter  the  sun  shines,  the  darker  is  the  shadow." 

"  I  am  speechless,  Necker,  speechless  for  joy !  To  see  your 
merits  fully  recognized  was  my  fondest  wish." 

"  I  am  only  afraid  that  public  opinion  may  desert  me  sooner 
or  later.  It  is  so  fickle,  and  cannot  be  relied  upon  at  all." 

"  It  will  not  desert  genuine  merits,  like  yours,  my  friend." 

"  It  is  not  faithful  to  them  either,  dearest.  But  pray  accom- 
pany me  now  to  the  salon.  Our  friends  await  you,  and  we 
have  already  tried  too  long  their  impatient  desire  to  greet 
you." 

He  offered  his  arm  to  his  wife.  She  accompanied  him  slowly 
and  thoughtfully. 


THE   FESTIVAL.  35 

At  the  door  of  the  salon  Necker  stood  still.  Immediately  the 
folding-doors  opened  as  if  by  a  magician's  wand,  and  under  a 
charming  canopy  of  blooming  shrubbery,  Germaine  stood  be- 
fore her  mother,  handed  her  a  bouquet  of  the  most  beautiful 
roses,  and  sui  g  the  following  verses,  which  Marmontel  had 
written  for  her,  to  an  air  from  Figaro's  "  Wedding:  " 

Moi  qui  gofitais  la  vie  avec  delire, 
Dans  nn  instant  j'ai  connu  le  malheur. 
Belle  maman,  temoin  de  ta  douleur, 
J'ai  dit:  Pour  moi  la  vie  est  un  supplies. 

En  me  donnant  la  plus  digne  des  meres, 
Ciel !  tu  m'as  fait  le  plus  beau  des  presents ; 
Daigae  veiller  sur  ses  jours  bienfaisants, 
Ou  tes  favours  me  seront  trop  ameres. 

Oui,  je  crains  moina  la  douleur  pour  moi-mgme, 
A  tous  ses  traits  je  suis  prete  a  m'offrir. 
Les  plus  grand^maux  c'est  ceux  qu'on  voit  souffr 
A  des  parents  qu'on  revere  et  qu'on  aime, 

De  mille  maux  ressaim  nous  accorapagne, 
Mais,  sont-ils  fait  s  pour  un  etre  accompli  f 
Ah !  d'un  objet  de  vertus  si  rempli 
Que  la  sante  soit  au  moins  la  compagne. 

Dans  les  hameaux  ou  nous  dit  qu'elle  habite 
Et  qu'elle  suit  la  douce  obscurite ; 
De  la  nature  en  sa  simplicite, 
Jamais  manian  n'a  passee  la  limite. 

De  leurs  esprits  1'essence  est  impassible; 
Ma  mere  a  droit  a  cet  heureux  destin. 
Ciel !  n'as  tu  pas  reuni  dans  son  sein 
Un  esprit  pur  avec  un  coeur  sensible. 

Un  Dien  toucbe  de  mon  humble  priere 
A  fait  cesser  le  mal  qui  m'accablait. 
Dans  ce  moment,  hSlas  !  il  me  semblait 
Qu'un  jour  nouveau  me  rendait  la  lumiere. 

J'ai  reconnu  combien  mon  ame  est  tendre ; 
A  quelque  chose  ainsi  nxalheur  est  bon. 
Dieu  !  gardcz-moi  de  pareille  le^on. 
Jo.  u'aurais  pas  la  force  de  la  prendre. 


3G  MADAME    DE    STAET,. 

M.  Necker  had  added  the  fallowing  Terse  to  MartnonteFs 
poem: 

De  mon  papa  voyez  1'amour  extreme ; 
Rien,  m'a-t-il  ditr  ne  peut  nous  dtsunir, 
Un  seul  instant  ponrrait  tout  me  ravir. 
Ah !  par  pitie,  preuez  soin  de  vous  meme. 

Madame  Necker  had  listened  attentively  to  her  daughter's 
song,  fixing  her  beautiful  eyes  now  on  her  child,  and  now  on 
her  husband  and  the  friends  assembled  in  the  background. 
She  now  bent  over  her  daughter,  imprinted  a  kiss  on  her  fore- 
head, and  whispered,  "  God  bless  you,  my  Germaine ! "  She 
then  held  out  both  hands  to  her  guests,  and  welcomed  them  in 
a  few  cordial  and  polite  words.  Marmontel,  whose  warm 
heart  would  always  overflow,  pressed  her  white  hand  affection- 
ately to  his  lips,  and  said,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "  God  be 
praised  for  restoring  you  to  us !  After  so  many  terrible  losses, 
this  blow  would  not  have  found  me  strong  enough  to  survive 
it.  Since  our  dear  GeoflVin  and  Mademoiselle  de  1'Espinasse 
have  left  us  for  evermore,  fate  could  not  take  you  from  us  like- 
wise ! " 

"  Let  us  not  speak  of  such  sad  subjects  to-day,  but  let  us  re- 
joice, my  dear  Marmontel,"  said  Necker.  "  Come !  I  have  just 
been  informed  that  dinner  is  ready.  Let  us  go  to  the  table, 
and  in  a  glass  of  generous  Kbenish  wine,  drink  to  oblivion  of 
the  past  and  enjoyment  of  the  present.  Thomas,  give  your 
arm  to  my  wife;  you,  Marmontel,  will  offer  yours  to  your  little 
bride  Germaine,  and  I  shall  follow  with  Baron  Grimm,  who  is 
as  tenderly  devoted  to  me  as  if  I  were  his  mistress." 

The  distinguished  gentleman  to  whom  Necker  had  just 
alluded,  smiled.  "  At  all  events,  my  dear  Necker,  I  am  a  very 
faithful  lover  of  yours;  and  for  Ibis  reason,  I  am  sure,  you  will 
forgive  me  for  being  neither  hrindsome  nor  young." 

"You  are  a  regular  nipid ;  you  have  bamlngH  your  eyes, 


THE   FESTIVAL.  37 

and  I  follow  your  example.     Friendship  must  be  no  more 
keen-sighted  than  love." 

Both  of  them,  laughing,  took  their  seats  at  the  dinner-table, 
and  the  host  saw  to  it  that  his  guests  did  not  engage  in  a  grave 
conversation  to-day.  Madame  Necker  entered  readily  upon 
all  jests,  and  suffered  to  pass  many  a  sally  which  she  otherwise 
would  have  frowned  down. 

"  Our  friend  Raynal  is  not  here  yet,"  said  M.  Necker.  "  Un- 
fortunately he  could  not  be  here  as  early  as  he  desired,  in- 
asmuch as  he  intended  to  accompany  hither  a  few  guests 
whose  appearance  was  to  afford  an  agreeable  surprise  to  my 
wife.  I  hope  we  shall  afterwards  find  him  in  the  salon." 

No  sooner  had  he  uttered  these  words  than  Raynal,  without 
being  announced,  entered  the  room,  and  without  further  cere- 
mony seated  himself  on  his  vacant  chair  at  the  small  dinner- 
table. 

"  Pray,  do  not  let  me  disturb  you,"  he  exclaimed.  "  My 
friends  will  quietly  wait  in  the  salon  till  I  return  to  them.  In 
the  meantime  I  may  chat  a  little  with  you,  and  enjoy  what  has 
been  left," 

"  It  is  very  amiable  of  you,  my  dear  Abbe,  to  bring  distin- 
guished guests  to  our  festival,  and  I  am  very  grateful  to  you," 
said  Madame  Necker,  politely.     Nevertheless,  I  am  already  . 
happy  enough  to  be  again  in  the  midst  of  my  old,  tried  friends, 
and  it  was  scarcely  necessary  to  add  strangers  to  our  circle." 

"  I  believe  you  will  not  be  dissatisfied  with  me,"  said 
Raynal,  smiling. 

"  Will  you  not  .tell  me  at  least  what  guests  I  shall  have  to 
welcome  in  the  salon?  " 

"  If  you  insist  on  it,  of  course ;  at  all  events,  you  would 
have  found  it  out  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes.  Mesmer  is 
here,  and  his  celebrated  clairvoyant  too." 


38  MADAME    DE   STAEL. 

"  You  are  jesting,"  exclaimed  Madame  Necker,  in  surprise. 

"No,  no,  I  am  in  dead  earnest.  I  heard  you  were  very 
anxious  to  witness  one  of  her  very  singular  performances,  and 
so  I  thought  I  would  add  to  the  interest  of  to-day's  festival  by 
bringing  those  two  persons  to  your  house.  Prepare  to  make 
the  most  wonderful  discoveries  in  the  world  of  spirits,  to  pene- 
trate to-night  all  that  hitherto  was  concealed  from  man  both 
in  heaven  and  on  earth,  and  to  see  the  future  revealed  to  your 
eyes.  Prepare,  prepare  ! " 

"  You  were  right,  indeed,  my  dear  Abbe ;  nothing  could  be 
more  agreeable  to  me  than  to  meet  this  celebrated  man. 
How  does  he  look  ?  Describe  him  to  me." 

"He  is  a  short,  light-haired  gentleman,  whose  appearance 
does  not  indicate  by  any  means  the  divine  knowledge  of 
which  he  is  possessed ;  but  still  waters  are  deep." 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on  in  the  dining-room, 
Dr.  Mesmer,  absorbed  in  profound  reflections,  sat  in  Madame 
Necker's  salon,  and  caused  his  eyes  to  wander  abstractedly 
from  one  object  to  another.  His  companion,  a  pale  young 
girl  with  raven  hair  and  the  unmistakable  appearance  of  a 
morbid  condition  of  her  nervous  system,  was  pacing  the  room 
in  great  agitation.  Finally  she  stood  still  in  front  of  a  corner- 
table  on  which  lay  Madame  Necker's  fan  and  a  small  memo- 
randum-book. She  opened  the  former,  held  it  to  the  light, 
and  admired  its  Chinese  workmanship ;  she  then  turned  her 
attention  to  the  small  memorandum-book.  She  took  out  the 
pencil  which  held  the  ivory  cover  together,  and  turned  over 
the  leaves.  In  order  to  read  what  was  written  on  them,  she 
had  to  step  closer  to  the  window.  She  found  on  one  page  the 
following  words,  written  in  a  neat  lady's  hand:  "To-day,  on 
my  birthday,  I  must  express  to  each  of  my  friends  in  a  diiFer- 
ent  manner  how  grateful  I  am  for  the  sympathy  manifested 


TI1E    FESTIVAL.  39 

toward  me.  *  Besides,  I  have  to  allude  particularly  to  what 
has  happened  in  the  last  two  months,  that  they  may  perceive 
that  my  sickness  did  not  prevent  me  from  taking  the  liveliest 
interest  in  their  welfare."  Now  followed  the  names  of  the 
friends,  with  hints  as  to  the  remarks  that  might  be  made  to 
them  in  the  course  of  the  conversation.  The  young  lady  read 
everything  with  close  attention,  and,  while  she  was  doing  so, 
a  very  peculiar  smile  played  round  her  lips.  She  was  ab- 
sorbed in  this  occupation  a  long  time,  and  did  not  lay  down 
the  memorandum-book  until  a  noise  at  the  door  indicated  the 
entrance  of  new  guests.  Madame  Necker  had  just  returned 
from  the  dining-room,  with  the  gentlemen  and  her  little 
daughter,  who  remained  at  her  mother's  side.  She  turned,  in 
the  first  place,  to  Dr.  Mesmer,  whom  she  bade  welcome  in  a 
few  nattering  words ;  then,  quickly  taking  her  fan  and  the 
memorandum-book,  which  she  had  laid  on  the  table  before 
going  to  the  diniug-room,  she  went  to  his  young  companion. 
"  Dr.  Mesmer  will  be  kind  enough  to  show  us,  in  connection 
with  you,  Mademoiselle,  the  importance  of  the  discoveries 
which  he  has  made,"  she  said  to  the  girl,  who,  bowing,  replied 
very  humbly,  "I  am  happy,  Madame,  to  be  called  upon  to 
serve  the  light  of  truth,  and  I  rejoice  at  the  opportunity  which 
has  been  given  to  me  thereby  to  meet  one  of  the  most 
accomplished  ladies  of  France." 

At  this  moment  Prince  Gonzaga  was  announced.  He  en- 
tered the  room  with  his  w7ife,  the  celebrated  Gorilla.  Madame 
Necker  now  turned  to  these  new  guests,  whom  she  received 
almost  awkwardly,  in  consequence  of  the  too  great  pains  she 
took  to  appear  perfectly  at  ease.  The  elegance  with  which  a 
native  Parisknne  moves  in  her  nalon,  is  not  acquired,  but  innate, 
despite  all  her  eflbris  and  preparations.  Madame  Necker  wag 
*  "  Mcmoiros  de  Morellet." 


40  MADAME    DE   STAEL. 

frequently  unable  to  strike  the  right  key.  The  appearance  of  the 
improvisatrice,  moreover,  made  a  profound  impression  on  her. 
The  beautiful  Princess  wore  a  heavy  dress  of  white  satin,  made  in 
the  Greek  fashion,  and  fastened  at  the  waist  only  with  a  golden 
belt;  a  tasteful  wreath  of  green  leaves  adorned  her  curly 
black  hair ;  she  wore  no  gloves  on  her  full,  white  arms,  but  had 
iadorned  them  only  with  plain  golden  bracelets.  A  sweet 
smile  played  round  her  beautiful  lips  when  she  kindly  thanked 
Madame  Necker  for  the  invitation  tendered  to  her  and  her 
husband.  "Oh!  I  should  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for 
accepting  it,"  replied  Madame  Necker,  "  and  my  friend  Mar- 
montel,  who  was  kind  enough  to  act  as  mediator  between  us, 
may  rely  on  my  fervent  gratitude.  Permit  me,  Princess,  to 
present  to  you  my  little  daughter,  who  is  so  astonished  at 
what  she  has  heard  of  your  wonderful  talent,  that  she  cannot 
sleep  at  night  Germaine,  kiss  the  hand  of  the  Princess." 

Gorilla  gracefully  held  out  her  hand  to  Germaine,  who 
pressed  it  to  her  cherry  lips.  "  How  beautiful  you  are !  "  she 
then  exclaimed,  gazing  up  to  the  Princess  with  radiant  eyes. 
"  Ah !  if  I  could  be  like  you,  how  well  I  should  please  my 
parents.  Even  though  I  learn  a  great  deal,  I  shall  never  be 
able  to  make  so  fascinating  an  impression." 

"  Child,  child,  how  wildly  you  talk !  "  said  Madame  Keeker, 
soothingly. 

"  Do  not  blame  your  little  daughter,"  said  Corilla,  kindly 
laying  her  beautiful  hand  on  the  child's  head.  "  She  still 
yields  to  her  impressions  ;  how  beautiful  that  is,  and  how  soon 
we  unlearn  it  when  we  have  entered  the  grave  school  of  life. 
When  our  illusions  have  vanished,  our  wishes  disappear  like- 
wise, and  our  days  creep  along  with  intolerable  slowness. 
May  that  time  be  remote  from  her  ! " 

"  And  from  you,  too,"  interposed  Marinontel.    "  The  little 


THE    FESTIVAL.  41 

god  must  not  allow  your  torch  to  sink  very  soon,  either, 
Princess." 

"  A  poet  like  you  should  versify  that  idea  on  the  spot,"  re- 
marked Prince  Gonzaga. 

"  If  the  presence  of  your  esteemed  consort  did  not  make  me 
bashful,  it  would  afford  me  pleasure  to  comply  with  your 
Wish  ;  but,  as  it  is, — " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  smilingly. 

"  If  that  prevents  you,  I  shall  withdraw,"  said  Gorilla,  pre- 
paring to  walk  away. 

"  No,  no,  Princess,  I  did  not  mean  that.  Even  though  you 
should  pass  an  unfavorable  opinion  on  my  feeble  talent,  I  shall 
try  to  do  what  I  can."  And  he  began  : 

L'amour  est  un  enfant  qui  vit  d'  illusion, 

La  triste  verite  dctruit  la  passion  ; 

II  vent  qu'on  le  seduise,  et  non  pas  qu'on  1'eclaire. 

Voila  de  son  bandeau  la  cause  et  le  mystere. 

"  Excellent ! "  exclaimed  the  Prince  and  Gorilla,  with  one 
accord ;  and  the  other  guests  joined  in  their  praise.  Mean- 
while, several  new  guests  had  arrived ;  groups  were  chatting 
here  and  there,  and  several  persons  were  introduced  to  the  dis- 
tinguished strangers.  Germaine,  however,  did  not  remain 
to-day,  as  usual,  at  her  mother's  side.  She  clung  to  the  beauti- 
ful Gorilla ;  she  followed  her  as  if  perfectly  fascinated,  and  did 
not  tire  of  expressing  her  intense  admiration  for  her.  The 
expression  of  her  countenance  indicated  that  she  was  animated 
with  the  fervent  longing  to  become  similar  to  this  lady,  and 
that  the  child's  mind  ambitiously  thirsted  for  such  homage, 
praise,  and  admiration  as  were  bestowed  upon  Gorilla. 

Such  moments  oftentimes  leave  profound  echoes  in  the  soul, 
and  we  may  take  it  for  granted  that  Madame  de  Stael's 
Corinne  arose  already  on  this  evening  hi  the  gifted  mind  of 
Germaine  Necker. 


42  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

Madame  Necker  had  meanwhile  entered  into  a  conversation 
with  Thomas,  while  Mesmer,  on  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
was  bringing  the  young  lady,  who  had  accompanied  him  to 
Necker's  house,  into  a  magnetic  sleep.  All  looked  in  eager 
expectation,  and  conversation  was  soon  hushed.  Profound 
silence  reigned  in  the  room. 

Suddenly,  Mesmer  bent  down  to  the  girl's  ear  and  asked  her 
to  tell  him  what  engrossed  the  thoughts  of  the  lady  of  the 
house. 

"  She  is  dissatisfied  with  herself,  inasmuch  as  she  did  not 
succeed  in  telling  her  guests  all  the  polite  things  which  she 
had  prepared  to  say  to  them." 

"  And  what  prevented  her  from  so  doing  ?  "  asked  Mesmer. 

"  Circumstances." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  what  she  intended  to  say,  or  what  she  did 
say?" 

"  I  will  try."  And  slowly,  and  making  long  pauses,  as  if 
trying  to  call  everything  to  mind,  she  repeated  every  word 
Madame  Necker  had  uttered,  adding  to  it  what  she  had  in- 
tended to  tell  her  guests,  but  what  circumstances  had  pre- 
vented her  from  saying. 

Her  audience  were  greatly  surprised  at  this  communication. 

Thomas  looked  wonderingly  at  his  beautiful,  pale  friend. 
"  Is  it  true,  then,  what  she  says  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  low  voice. 
"  Did  this  person  really  divine  your  most  secret  thoughts 
without  your  having  furnished  her  the  key  to  them  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  her  at  all ;  this  is  the  first  time  that  I  have 
seen  her  in  my  life,  and  I  know  no  more  of  her  than  she 
does  of  me,"  replied  Madame  Necker,  in  a  low  voice,  trembling 
with  emotion.  "  I  am  astonished  beyond  measure.  What 
she  says  is  a  perfect  enigma  to  me.  Should  the  abnormal 
state  of  her  nervous  system  really  impart  to  her  soul  the  power 


THE    FESTIVAL.  43 

of  discerning  objects  not  perceptible  by  the  senses,  and  of 
seeing  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  human  mind  ?  " 

"  Such  a  power  would  frighten  me,"  replied  Thomas, 
gravely.  "  Nor  could  it  do  any  good.  How  dreadful  it  would 
be  for  us  to  be  unable  to  keep  our  thoughts  to  ourselves,  and 
to  have  a  secret  and  silent  witness  even  to  what  we  thought 
we  could  conceal  from  all  eyes.  Not  to  be  alone  with  one's 
self— the  idea  would  drive  me  mad." 

"  All  you  have  to  do  is  not  to  think  of  it,  and  the  invisible 
witness  is  no  longer  present,"  said  Raynal,  good-humoredly. 
"  Our  neighbor  Bacon,  you  know,  says,  '  Whoever  is  delighted 
with  solitude  is  either  a  wild  beast  or  a  god  ; '  and  inasmuch  as 
most  men  combine  in  their  nature  a  little  of  either,  an 
unknown  companion  would  not  be  so  very  bad  for  them  in 
lonely  hours.  Only  we  ought  also  to  possess  the  power  of 
calling  up  this  invisible  friend  ;  in  that  event  nothing  would 
be  wanting  to  our  happiness.  But  let  me  try  now  if  the  young 
lady  is  able  to  divine  my  thoughts,  too." 

So  saying,  he  stepped  close  up  to  Mesmer  and  whispered 
something  in  his  ear. 

There  was  a  pause  of  eager  expectation. 

Finally,  the  clairvoyant  began  in  a  slow,  solemn  tone  : 

"  The  Abbe  Raynal  is  thinking  of  the  humorous  article 
which  he  intends  publishing  to-morrow  about  Dr.  Mesmer  and 
me  in  the  Cour'er  de  Paris." 

"  By  the  Eternal,  she  has  hit  it!"  exclaimed  Raynal,  in  sur- 
prise, "  I  did  think  of  that.  Now,  Marmontel,  try  your  luck 
likewise.  Let  us  hear  from  the  lips  of  the  clairvoyant  what  is 
passing  in  the  heart  of  our  poet." 

Mesmer  spoke  to  the  clairvoyant.  In  a  few  minutes  she  re- 
plied: 

"  M.  Marmontel  is  delighted  with  the  beautiful  verses  which 


44  MADAME   BE   STAEI* 

he  improvised  on  the  blindness  of  the  god  of  love,  and  by 
which  he  thinks  he  proved  to  the  celebrated  Corilla  that  he, 
too,  might  travel  as  an  improvisator." 

All  fixed  their  eyes  on  Marmontel,  who  averted  his  head  in 
great  confusion,  and  vainly  tried  to  smile  as  serenely  as  he  had 
done  before. 

"  She  hit  it  again,"  said  Raynal,  maliciously.  "But  suppose 
we  should  now  try  to  read  in  the  heart  of  my  little  friend  here, 
too  ?  "  he  added,  turning  to  Germaine  Necker,  and  seizing  her 
hand.  "  It  seems  to  me  this  will  be  the  best  way  for  me  to  as- 
certain whether  or  not  she  really  intends  to  become  my  little 
wife." 

The  little  girl  laughed.  "  Just  ask  her ! "  she  said  to  him  in 
a  low  voice.  "  I  should  like  to  hear  what  she  will  say  about 
me." 

Raynal  complied  with  her  wish.  Her  eyes  now  hung  anxi- 
ously upon  the  lips  of  the  clairvoyant. 

"  Germaine  Necker,"  she  said,  "  longs  intently  to  be  admired 
like  the  Princess  Gonzaga.  She  thirsts  for  fame;  she  is  envi- 
ous of  beauty ;  hence,  happiness  will  always  llee  her,  and  an 
early  grave  will  give  her  glowing  heart  that  peace  which  she 
will  never  find  in  life." 

"  Enough  ! "  cried  Necker,  advancing  a  step  with  a  menacing 
air.  "  This  is  growing  too  serious  for  a  mere  jest.  Let  us 
hear  no  more  of  it ! " 

So  saying,  he  folded  his  child  to  his  breast  as  if  to  protect  her 
from  all  the  woe  threatening  her. 

Thomas  offered  his  arm  to  Madame  Necker,  who  was  afraid 
she  might  faint  away,  and  conducted  her  into  the  adjoini :ig 
room.  All  the  guests  left  the  house.  Mesmer  alone  remain  \\ 
with  his  clairvoyant,  who  awoke  now  quickly  and  walked 
away  with  him. 


CHAPTER  V. 

VOLTAIRE  IN  PARIS. 

i 

THE  February  sun  shed  its  feeble  rays  on  the  earth,  and  illu- 
minated wi:h  its  pale  light  the  gloomy  streets  of  the  old  city 
of  Paris.  M.  Necker  had  "worked  in  the  Department  of 
Finance,  and  was  now  on  his  way  home  at  an  unusually  early 
hour;  so  his  wife  did  not  yet  look  for  his  return.  She  sat  in 
her  boudoir,  where  no  one  was  permitted  to  disturb  her  in  the 
morning,  engaged  in  instructing  her  daughter,  when  the  quick 
footsteps  of  a  gentleman  fell  on  her  ears.  She  looked  in  sur- 
prise toward  the  door  in  order  to  see  who  it  was  that  dared  to 
enter  here  so  impetuously,  when  it  was  thrust  open,  and 
Necker's  short  and  heavy-set  figure  appeared  in  it.  His  wife 
looked  at  him  inquiringly,  with  a  glance  whose  anxious  expres- 
sion seemed  to  spy  for  some  disagreeable  cause  of  his  appear- 
ance ;  but  his  smile  and  the  serene  expression  of  his  counte- 
nance soon  calmed  her  fears.  He  said  to  her,  merrily : 

"Voltaire  has  arrived!  Despite  his  advanced  age,  he  has 
ventured  to  undertake  the  journey  to  Paris.  The  whole  city 
is  in  commotion  in  consequence  of  his  unexpected  arrival.  He 
has  not  been  here  for  twenty-seven  years  past.  The  appear- 
ance of  a  ghost,  a  prophet,  an  apostle,  could  not  have  excited 
more  astonishment  *  than  his  arrival  did.  He  is  welcomed 
like  a  miracle,  and  eclipses  everything  else,  the  rumors  of  aOi 
impending  war,  the  court  gossip,  the  quarrels  of  the  clergy, 
*  "  Correspondance  de  Grimm  et  Diderot,  en  1778." 


46  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

and  even  the  great  struggle  between  the  adherents  of  Gluck 
and  Piccini.  The  pride  of  the  Encyclopedists  bows  to  the 
Patriarch  of  Ferney  ;  the  Sorbonne  trembles  before  him ;  the 
parliament  does  not  venture  to  speak ;  literature  proudly  raises 
its  head ;  and  all  Paris  is  on  its  legs  to  pay  homage  to  its  idol, 
who  is  admired  and  revered  as  no  hero  of  the  whole  century 
ever  was." 

"  So  he  is  really  here  1 "  exclaimed  Madame  Necker,  in  joy- 
ous surprise.  "  There  was  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  his  com- 
ing for  some  time  past.  He  was  said  to  be  anxious  to  return  to 
Paris,  and  longed  for  an  invitation.  Well,  I  am  particularly 
glad  of  it  for  our  daughter's  sake ;  for  this  is  no  doubt  his  last 
journey,  and  she  will  have  an  opportunity  to  get  acquainted 
with  the  illustrious  man  before  he  is  taken  from  us  and  from 
mankind." 

"  He  performed  the  journey  from  Ferney  to  Paris,  despite 
the  cold  weather,  in  five  days.  That  is  a  good  deal  for  a  man 
of  eighty-four.  But  although,  to  all  appearance,  he  enjoys  the 
best  of  health,  he  insists  all  the  time  that  he  is  very  sick,"  said 
M.  Necker.  "  Whenever  anybody  congratulates  him  on  his  vig- 
orous and  healthy  appearance,  he  flies  into  a  towering  passion." 

"  I  shall  take  good  care,  then,  not  to  compliment  him  on  it," 
replied  Madame  Necker.  "  I  am  glad  that  you  cautioned  me 
in  time.  But  tell  me  now  also  where  he  stays,  and  if  you  think 
I  had  better  call  on  him." 

"He  alighted  at  the  house  of  the  Marquis  de  Villette.    I 

have  been  told  that  the  Marquis  has  given  the  poet  a  cabinet 

resembling  the  boudoir  of  a  goddess  of  love.    You  had  better 

*call  on  him  this  very  day.    It  is  early  enough  for  it  yet,  and 

/you  know  he  is  so  restless  and  mobile  that  we  must  seize  him 

as  soon  as  possible  if  we  wish  to  prevent  him  from  slipping 

entirely  from  our  hands." 


VOLTAIRE    IN   PARIS.  47 

"  It  seems,  Necker,  you  do  not  wish  to  accompany  me  to 
him  ?  " 

"  I  am  unfortunately  unable  to  do  so,"  he  replied,  regretfully. 
"  I  had  already  to  interrupt  some  very  important  business  in 
order  to  inform  you  of  Voltaire's  arrival.  Times  are  too  grave. 
The  welfare  of  France  and  my  honor  are  at  stake.  If  I  am 
unable  to  prove  to  the  world  that  I  am  exceedingly  well-quali- 
fied for  the  position  which  the  King  has  intrusted  to  me,  both 
he  and  I  will  be  severely  censured,  and  both  of  us  lose  our 
game.  At  so  grave  a  moment  I  must  leave  the  joys  of  social 
life  to  you  alone.  But  Voltaire  may  possibly  consent  to  dine 
with  us.  In  that  event,  I  should  be  exceedingly  glad  to  meet 
him  again  and  converse  with  him." 

"  I  shall  invite  him  in  your  name,"  replied  Madame  Necker. 

"  I  am  sure  he  will  receive  you  very  kindly,  inasmuch  as  it 
was  you  who  originated  the  idea  of  erecting  a  statue  to  him, 
the  expense  to  be  collected  by  subscription." 

"  And  what  a  letter  he  wrote  to  me  in  reply  !  "Who  ever 
traced  such  a  portrait  of  himself  as  Voltaire  did  on  that  occa- 
sion ! " 

"  Never  mind ;  the  idea  nevertheless  flattered  his  vanity, 
and  you  may  be  sure  that  he  will  receive  you  the  more  kindly 
for  that  matter,"  replied  Necker,  stepping  toward  the  door. 
"  For  the  rest,  his  presence  here  is  certain  to  give  rise  to  many 
amusing  scenes ;  for  the  clergy  have  determined  to  profit  by  his 
arrival  in  order  to  save  his  soul.  The  priests  are  vicing  with 
one  another  in  this  respect ;  all  of  them  are  desirous  of  immor- 
talizing their  names  by  converting  the  Patriarch  of  Ferney. 
One  of  them  was  already  foolish  enough  to  steal  this  morning 
into  his  room  while  Voltaire  was  still  in  bed  ;  and,  kneeling 
down  before  him,  the  priest  shouted  excitedly,  "  In  the  name 
of  God,  listen  to  me  !  I  am  your  scapegoat ;  I  am  destined  to 


48  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

take  upon  me  the  guilt  of  your  life;  but  now  confess  your  sins 
to  me  without  delay,  and  beware  of  letting  this  opportunity 
pass  without  profiting  by  it;"  etc.,  etc. 

"  Our  poet  happened  to  be  in  very  good  humor ;  so  he  asked 
the  priest,  very  calmly,  who  had  sent  him  on  this  errand? 
"Who  but  the  living  God,"  replied  the  priest.  "Well,  then, 
reverend  father,"  said  Voltaire,  quite  seriously,  "  pray  let  me 
see  your  credentials."  This  very  simple  and  natural  question 
perplexed  the  poor  man  so  much  that  Voltaire  finally  took  pity 
on  his  confusion  and  tried  to  soothe  him  by  speaking  very 
kindly  and  gently  to  him.  He  dismissed  the  priest  with  the 
assurance  that  he  would  confess  to  him  if  he  should  come  to 
him  at  a  more  convenient  time.  From  such  a  beginning  we 
may  infer  the  steps  which  the  reverend  gentlemen  will  take 
in  order  to  bring  about  the  salvation  of  the  Patriarch." 

"  Their  impertinence  evidently  knows  no  bounds,"  exclaimed 
Madame  Necker. 

"  Well,  he  will  know  how  to  defend  himself;  no  one  gets 
the  better  of  him  so  very  easily,"  said  M.  Necker,  leaving  the 
room. 

As  soon  as  he  had  closed  the  door  after  him,  Madame  Necker 
rang  the  bell,  ordered  her  carriage,  and  told  her  lady's-maid  to 
dress  her. 

"  Have  you  already  reflected  about  the  answer  you  are  going 
to  give  Voltaire  in  case  he  should  vouchsafe  a  few  kind  words 
to  you  ? "  asked  Madame  Necker  of  her  daughter,  when  she 
had  finished  her  toilet. 

Germaine  hesitated.  She  stood  before  the  looking-glass  and 
tried  to  arrange  the  small  round  rose-colored  bonnet  which 
was  fastened  to  her  tall  hair-dress,  and  which  caused  the  full, 
florid  face  of  the  young  girl  to  appear  in  the  most  unfavorable 
light.  When  her  mother  now  stepped  to  her  and  bent  her 


VOLTAIRE    IN   PARIS.  49 

delicate,  white  face  down  to  her,  the  contrast  was  most  strik- 
ing, and  the  girl  burst  into  tears, 

<l  What  is  the  matter,  my  clear  child  ? "  asked  Madame 
Keeker,  fixing  her  clear  eyes  wouderingly  on  her  daughter. 

"  I  think  I  am  so  homely,  mother,"  replied  Gennaine.  "  You 
told  me  I  should  be  handsomer  when  I  had  grown  taller.  But 
look  now  for  yourself.  My  head  already  reaches  up  to  your 
chin ;  I  am  no  longer  a  little  girl,  and  yet  I  am  as  fat  and  awk- 
ward and  common-looking  as  if  I  had  been  born  in  a  peasant's 
hut  I  wonder  what  is  the  cause  of  it !" 

"  You  are  tall  for  your  age,  Germaine;  but  still  you  look  like 
a  child.  Your  face  is  that  of  a  child.  I  had  already  hi  my 
thirteenth  year  such  full,  round  cheeks  as  you  have  now." 

"  Why  do  I  not  resemble  you,  mother  ?  Why  is  my  com- 
plexion not  as  white  and  delicate  as  yours  ?  You  are  so  beau- 
tiful and  fascinating,  Voltaire  will  be  surprised  to  see  that  your 
daughter  bears  no  resemblance  whatever  to  you," 

"  He  will  take  little  notice  of  your  appearance,  my  dear 
child,  if  your  mind  shows  him  that  you  have  already  acquired 
considerable  knowledge  for  a  girl  of  your  age,  and  even  know 
how  to  appreciate  his  extraordinary  talents.  Voltaire  himself 
was  never  handsome ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  exceedingly  ill- 
favored  ;  but  his  great  mind  caused  everybody  to  forget  that  he 
was  not  good-looking.  So  it  depends  on  you  to  do  likewise. 
Follow  me  now,  and  do  not  yield  to  such  foolish  despondency." 

Germaine  breathed  on  her  handkerchief,  pressed  it  to  her 
eyes,  and  accompanied  her  mother  to  the  carriage, 

The  house  of  the  Marquis  de  Villette  lay  at  no  great  dis- 
tance from  Necker's  residence-  it  Avas  on  the  corner  of  the 
Rue  Baune  and  the  quay  bearing  Voltaire's  name,  and  almost 
directly  opposite  the  Pavilion  de  Flore,  on  the  left  wing  of  the 
Tuileries,  which  Louis  the  Sixteenth  inhabited. 
3 


50  MADAME    RE    STAEL. 

Madame  Necker  ordered  her  footman  to  inquire  if  Voltaire 
was  at  home  and  received  visitors.  Having  received  an 
answer  in  the  affirmative,  she  alighted,  and  caused  the  porter 
to  conduct  her  through  the  entre-sol  to  the  first  floor,  where  he 
pointed  out  to  her  a  narrow,  dark  corridor,  at  the  end  of  which 
was  a  small  door  leading  to  the  room  occupied  by  Voltaire. 

She  rapped  at  this  door,  and  the  poet  himself  made  his  ap- 
pearance immediately,  and  asked  her  to  come  in. 

"  You  must  forgive  me,  Madame  Necker,  for  receiving  you 
in  this  trou  de  rien"  he  said  to  her,  politely  ;  "but  the  sons  of 
the  Muses  generally  have  not  where  to  lay  their  heads ;  happy, 
therefore,  he  to  whom  even  such  a  shelter  as  this  is  vouch- 
safed." 

Madame  Necker  was  scarcely  able  to  conceal  her  surprise 
when  she  looked  about  "  the  boudoir  of  the  goddess  of  love," 
which,  in  fact,  was  but  very  scantily  furnished. 

"  Where  you  are,  your  surroundings  are  not  noticed,"  she 
then  replied,  with  her  most  winning  smile.  "  The  thought  of 
meeting  you  again  made  me  so  happy,  that  I  undertook  to  pene- 
trate to  you  without  my  husband,  whom  official  duties  unfor- 
tunately prevented  from  accompanying  me,  and  thus  fulfilling 
the  fondest  wish  of  his  heart." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  he  is  engaged  in  cleaning  the  Augean 
stables  of  French  finances,  and  with  his  good  intentions  is 
paving  himself  a  very  pretty  road  to  hell,"  replied  Voltaire, 
laughing.  "  I  never  was  so  wise  or  mad  as  to  undertake  to 
sweep  before  the  Ax>rs  of  other  people,  so  I  do  not  understand 
anything  about  the  pleasure  derived  from  such  a  course.  It 
must  be  very  pleasant,  though,  inasmuch  as  so  very  many  per- 
sons pursue  it.  M.  Necker  is  content,  I  suppose." 

"  He  hopes  that  his  efforts  will  be  successful ;  and  as  long  as 
there  is  hope,  he  will  courageously  walk  his  thorny  path — " 


VOLTAIRE    IN   PARIS.  51 

"  And  sow  tares  !    Ha !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  I  trust  not,"  said  Madame  Necker,  smiling.  "  But,  instead 
of  sneering  at  the  cause  which  keeps  my  poor  husband  away 
from  you,  you  ought  to  pity  him." 

"  God  forbid  that  I  should  commit  such  a  sin  against  tho 
welfare  of  this  kingdom ! "  exclaimed  Voltaire,  pathetically. 
"  But  pray  sit  down !  It  makes  no  difference  what  parts  we 
play  on  this  great  stage  of  life,  for,  no  matter  what  we  may  do, 
the  last  act  always  remains  a  bloody  one.  However,  a  good 
digestion  helps  us  to  surmount  and  accomplish  a  great  deal, 
provided  we  keep  our  eyes  fixed  on  the  aim  we  have  marked 
out  for  us,  and  constantly  bear  in  mind  that  nothing  is  so 
important  for  us  as  to  amuse  ourselves  and  enjoy  good  health.* 
For,  as  I  said  before, '  Le  dernier  acte  est  toujours  sanglnnC  \ 
I  have  always  taken  pains  to  live  in  consonance  with  these 
views,  and  if  I  have,  nevertheless,  to  submit  to  the  execution 
of  my  death-warrant,  it  is,  at  all  events,  no  fault  of  mine." 

"  Your  health  is  so  good  that  we  need  not  look  for  that 
dreadful  event  for  a  long  time  yet,"  remarked  Madame  Necker, 
forgetful  of  her  determination  not  to  speak  to  him  about  his 
appearance. 

"  That  is  a  mistake  which  you  share  with  a  good  many 
other  persons,  Madame,"  replied  Voltaire,  in  a  tone  of  irrita- 
tion. "  This  trou  de  rien  admits  too  little  sunshine  to  reveal  to 
your  eye  the  vestiges  which  time  has  left  on  my  face,  and  my 
poor  body  is  wrapped  up  in  so  much  clothing  that  I  can 
scarcely  find  it  myself.  Little,  of  course,  can  be  said  of  my 
appearance,  as  long  as  people  have  to  take  pains  to  discover 
anything  of  me  save  my  voice." 


*  "Voltaire,  Correspondance,"  Vol.  V.:  "  Tout  est  egal  dans  ce  monde 
mrvu  qu'on  se  pnrU 
t  Ibid.    Vol.  m. 


pourm-  qu'on  se  porte  Inen  et  qu'on  S1  amuse." 
'  "bid.    Vol.    ' 


52  MADAME    DE   STAEL. 

"  I  hope  you  will  remain  for  some  time  in  our  midst,"  said 
Madame  Necker,  in  order  to  turn  the  conversation  to  another 
subject,  and  to  soothe  his  irritation. 

"  A  man  who  may  daily  look  for  his  dissolution  is  not  at 
liberty  to  speak  of  coming  days,  Madame.  I  hope,  however, 
death  will  grant  me  time  enough  to  obtain  a  passport  for  mj 
soul,  lest  it  should  have  to  stand,  bare  and  naked  like  a  beggar, 
at  the  gates  of  eternity." 

"  Your  century  will  stand  up  for  you,"  said  Madame  Necker, 
politely. 

"  Yes,  yes,  we  know  that.  Apres  nous  Ic  deluge.  When  I  am 
no  longer  there  to  take  care  of  Voltaire,  the  man,  he  will  be 
thrown  on  the  first  dung-hill,  as  food  for  the  dogs.  I  must  .try 
to  prevent  that.  So  I  will  confess  and  obtain  absolution.  I 
will  become  a  free-mason,  and,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  take  my 
seat  in  the  Academy.  After  these  three  points  have  been  set- 
tled, I  do  not  believe  that  St.  Peter  can  any  longer  shut  the 
gates  of  heaven  against  me."  He  burst  into  laughter. 

"  At  all  events,  you  make  light  of  the  matter,"  said  Madame 
Necker.  May  I  hope  that,  notwithstanding  these  important 
occupations,  you  will  find  time  to  dine  with  us  ?  My  huslwaud 
urgently  invites  you  to  do  so." 

"  Your  wishes  are  orders  to  me,  Madame,  especially  when 
they  are  in  consonance  with  mine,"  said  Voltaire,  jumping  up 
restlessly ;  for  his  nervous,  excitable  nature  did  not  permit  him 
to  remain  long  on  the  same  spot.  "  I  shall,  moreover,  be  glad 
to  avail  myself  of  this  opportunity,  in  order  to  recommend  my 
remains  to  M.  Necker.  The  priests  would  be  capable  of  put- 
ting me,  like  a  scare-crow,  into  a  corn-field." 

"No,  they  shall  not!"  exclaimed  Germaine  Necker,  jump- 
ing up  and  pressing  the  hands  of  the  poet  to  her  lips,  while 
tears  streamed  from  her  eyes.  "  No,  they  shall  not !  My 


VOLTAIKE    IN   PARIS.  53 

father  will  never  permit  it ;  and,  if  he  did,  I  should  bury  you 
with  my  own  hands,  and  plant  roses  on  your  grave  ! " 

"  I  like  young  folks  animated  with  such  sentiments,"  cried 
Voltaire,  his  small,  sunken  eyes  glistening  with  pleasure.  "  It 
did  me  good  to  hear  that !  Madame  Necker,  the  words  which 
your  daughter  uttered  just  now  do  honor  to  the  education 
which  you  have  given  to  her.  If  your  daughter  continues  in 
the  same  path,  she  will  one  day  receive  a  letter  of  acknowl- 
edgment, such  as  M.  Necker  recently  addressed  in  the  King's 
name  to  a  brave,  kind-hearted  sailor.*  The  letter  will  state : 
'  She  has  buried  Voltaire,  for  which  she  receives  our  most  gra- 
cious thanks ;  she  has  buried  him  with  his  big,  long  wig,  his 
lace  cuffs,  aud  all  his  fine  clothes,  and  deprived  us  of  the  sad 
sight  of  a  body  which  will  not  be  of  much  account  until 
doomsday ;  and  it  will  be  a  long,  long  time  yet  before  the 
trumpet  resounds.'  Such  will  be  the  acknowledgments, 
Mademoiselle,  which  will  be  bestowed  upon  you  if  you  take 
care  of  my  remains,  and  help  me  to  change  into  a  chrysalis 
like  any  other  butterfly.  But  accept  now  already  the  acknowl- 
edgments of  your  most  obedient  Voltaire,  for  the  kind  inten- 
tions you  have  manifested  toward  him." 

"  My  daughter  shares  my  admiration  for  you,"  said  Madame 
Necker,  coming  to  the  assistance  of  her  daughter,  who  seized 
in  silent  confusion  the  hand  which  Voltaire  held  out  to  her. 
"  It  cannot  surprise  you  that  she  should  be  quite  carried  away 
by  the  impression  which  the  sight  of  such  an  eminent  man  as 
you  must  make  upon  so  young  a  mind." 

*  By  order  of  the  King,  Necker  wrote  the  following  to  a  sailor:  "  Excel- 
lent man  !  The  intendant  informed  me  day  before  yesterday  of  the  cour- 
ageous deed  which  you  performed  on  the  31st  i>f  August,  and  communi- 
cated the  intelligence  yesterday  to  the  King.  His  .Majesty  instructs  me  to 
express  to  you  his  satisfaction  at  your  conduct, aud  to  order  you  one  thou- 
sand francs  and  a  pension  of  three  hundred  francs.  Continue  assisting 
others  whenever  you  can,  and  pray  for  our  good  King,  who  loves  and 
rewards  kind-hearted  men.  (Signed)  NECKEK,  Minister  of  Finance." 


54  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

"  You  make  me  proud,  Madame,  proud  and  withal  sad ;  for 
what  prospects  open  before  me  when  I  gaze  into  the  radiant 
black  eyes  of  your  daughter,  and  am  immediately  to  abandon 
the  hopes  to  which  they  give  rise !  Oh,  whimsical  fortune ! 
Why  did  you  cause  this  young  heart  to  throb  for  me  only  to 
sacrifice  itself,  like  an  Indian  widow,  on  my  grave !  Why  did 
you  cause  me  to  find  this  young  half  at  a  moment  when  my 
old  half  is  to  cease  sighing  and  cooing  ?  What  a  son-in-law  I 
should  have  been  to  you,  Madame  !  Forgive  me  if  nature  no 
longer  enables  me  to  aspire  to  the  happiness  of  wedded  life." 

"  I  certainly  regret  it  both  in  my  own  interest  and  in  that  of 
France,"  replied  Madame  Necker,  still  in  the  same  tone,  which 
she  did  not  allow  to  be  disturbed  by  any  of  Voltaire's  singular 
sallies ;  "  but  how  loth  we  shall  be  to  lose  a  name  which  our 
lips  have  so  long  uttered  with  the  most  intense  admiration, 
and  which  our  ears  never  can  nor  will  hear  without  experienc- 
ing the  proudest  joy  at  belonging  to  the  same  country  as  its 
eminent  bearer." 

So  saying,  she  rose  and  prepared  to  leave. 

"  As  soon  as  my  '  Irene '  has  been  performed,  I  shall  call  on 
you,"  said  Voltaire,  rubbing  his  hands  gleefully.  "  I  have  to 
superintend  the  rehearsals  that  the  actors  may  learn  to  play 
tbeir  parts  in  a  satisfactory  manner." 

"  We  are  looking  forward  to  the  first  performance  with  the 
liveliest  interest,"  replied  Madame  Necker. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  am  afraid  of.  People  forget  that  I  have 
grown  old,  and  still  demand  of  me  very  remarkable  works. 
That  is  exceedingly  unjust." 

"  Your  genius,  as  we  have  known  for  a  long  time  past,  never 
grows  old  ;  at  all  events,  you  have  never  yet  proved  the  con- 
trary to  us,"  said  Madame  Necker,  smiling. 

"  I  am  going  to  do  so  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Voltaire  ;   just 


VOLTAIRE   IN   PARIS.  55 

wait  for  the  first  performance  of  my  tragedy,"  replied  Voltaire, 
laughing,  and  offering  her  his  arm  in,  order  to  conduct  her 
through  the  dark  corridor.  "  Although  beautiful  eyes  illumin- 
ate the  darkest  night,"  he  remarked  to  her,  in  the  corridor, 
"  your  blue  stars  could  not  light  up  this  Orcus  even  in  the  day- 
time. One  must  be  accustomed  to  darkness  in  order  to  be  able 
to  see  here." 

He  bowed  deeply  and  retired,  while  the  outer  door  closed  be- 
hind the  ladies,  who  entered  their  carriage  again,  and  drove 
toward  the  Bois  de  Boulogne. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  FIItST  LAUREL- WREATH. 

CARNIVAL  had  never  l>een  merrier  in  Paris  than  in  1778. 
There  was  an  endless  round  of  gay  festivities,  and  motley 
crowds  of  masks  filled  the  streets.  The  court  participated  in 
the  amusements  as  far  as  etiquette  permitted ;  and  even  the 
princes  of  the  royal  iamily,  as  well  as  the  young  queen  her- 
self, permitted  themselves  many  a  liberty,  and  perpetrated  many 
a  jest,  which  they  could  not  have  done  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances. 

Madame  Necker  kept  entirely  aloof  from  this  whirl  of  plea- 
sure. Much  as  her  husband's  new  position  had  elevated  her  in 
social  life,  she  took  no  pains  whatever  to  turn  it  to  account  in 
this  respect.  She  contented  herself  wilh  the  knowledge  that 
the  name  which  she  bore  was  mentioned  everywhere  with 
respect  and  gratitude,  and  she  shared  the  joy  with  which  this 
filled  her  heart,  with  those  friends  of  her  house  who  were  espe- 
cially devoted  to  her  husband,  and  among  whom  Grimm  was 
his  most  ardent  admirer.  He  never  tired  of  eulogizing  Necker, 
and  expressed  incessantly  his  joy  at  seeing  him  labor  so  enthu- 
siastically and  indefatigably  for  the  welfare  of  France. 

A  friend  whose  heartfelt  sympathies  follow  us  in  the  path 
of  glory  without  a  tinge  of  envy  rising  in  his  soul,  what  a  rare 
boon !  It  was  vouchsafed  to  Necker,  who  derived  comfort  and 
strength  from  it  in  the  stormiest  days  of  his  eventful  career. 

While  her  husband, owing  to  his  official  duties,  could  devote 


THE   FIRST   LAUREL-WREATH.  57 

but  little  attention  to  his  family,  Madame  Necker  devoted  as 
much  time  as  she  could  spare  to  the  education  of  her  daughter ; 
and  she  took  especial  pains  to  impart  to  her  that  practical  view 
of  human  life  which  she  hoped  would  soften  the  impetuosity 
of  her  feelings,  and  keep  her  in  the  narrow  path  of  prudence 
and  propriety.  For  this  purpose  she  had  renounced  all  plea- 
sures of  social  life,  and  devoted  herself  with  all  her  heart  to  the 
establishment  of  a  hospital  at  St.  Sulpice,  where  Germaine,  as 
soon  as  it  would  be  completed,  should  see  all  kinds  of  suffering, 
and  even  look  death  in  the  face.  She  hoped  much,  nay  every- 
thing, from  these  practical  lessons  which  her  child  was  to  re- 
ceive, and  she  left  nothing  undone  in  order  to  render  them  as 
impressive  as  possible. 

Germaiue,  therefore,  remained  alone  much  oftener  than  for- 
merly, and  her  lively  mind  caused  her  to  engage  in  various 
occupations  in  order  to  while  away  her  time.  Dolls  had  never 
been  the  companions  of  her  early  years,  She  had  groAvn  up 
with  books,  and  the  only  mechanical  knowledge  she  had  ac- 
quired had  been  to  wield  the  pen.  So  she  now  stuck  to  her 
old  friend.  She  read  and  wrote,  and  often  recited  aloud  what 
she  had  penned.  Her  days  passed  in  this  manner.  Madame 
Necker  did  not  interfere  with  her.  She  considered  these  occu- 
pations exceedingly  useful ;  she  thought  them  conducive  to  her 
mental  development,  and  hoped  they  would  lead  her  to  serious 
reflections.  An  education  whose  ultimate  object  was  not  self- 
education  seemed  to  her  entirely  fruitless. 

One  clay  the  Abbe  Raynal  surprised  the  young  girl  standing 
before  the  looking-glass  in  the  salon,  and  reciting  something  iu 
a  loud  voice.  She  had  commenced  writing  a  drama,  and  was 
now  rehearsing  the  role  of  the  heroine. 

"  All  alone ! "  he  said  to  her.     "  I  thought  there  were  two 
persons  in  this  room.    What  are  you  doing  here  ?" 
3* 


58  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

Germaine  became  greatly  confused,  and  concealed  her  manu- 
script in  her  hand. 

"  I  hope  you  do  not  want  to  conceal  anything  from  your 
old  friend  ?  "  he  said  kindly.  "  Just  let  me  see  what  you  were 
reciting.  If  it  is  your  own  work,  so  much  the  better.  In  that 
event  my  advice  might  be  useful  to  you." 

The  last  words  seemed  to  overcome  the  timidity  of  the 
young  girl.  So  she  gathered  all  her  courage  and  handed  the 
paper  to  the  Abbe. 

u  Ah ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  he  had  glanced  at  it,  "  A 
regular  manuscript !  A  complete  drama !  Say,  my  young 
friend,  suppose  you  let  me  take  it  home  and  peruse  it  carefully. 
Perhaps  we  might  prepare  a  very  pleasant  little  surprise  with 
it  to  your  mother  on  her  birthday." 

"  Ah,  I  wish  we  could  do  that,"  exclaimed  Germaine,  crim- 
soning with  joy.  "It  would  make  me  so  happy  if  she  should 
praise  me ! " 

"  But  are  you  doing  anything  for  which  she  censures  you  ?  " 
asked  the  Abbe. 

"  Yes,  she  does,  although  I  always  take  pains  to  show  her 
how  dearly  I  love  her.  For  this  reason  I  am  so  sorry  that  I 
did  not  marry  Mr.  Gibbon." 

"  What !    The  fat  Englishman? "  asked  Raynal,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  the  fat  Englishman  !  It  does  not  matter  how  he  looks, 
provided  my  parents  like  him  ;  and  both  of  them  were  so  fond 
of  him,  and  missed  him  so  much  when  he  returned  to  his  na- 
tive country.  Had  I  quickly  made  up  my  mind  to  many  him, 
he  would  have  remained  with  them  for  ever.  But  this  did  not 
occur  to  me  until  he  was  gone,"  she  added,  in  a  low  voice. 

The  Abbe  burst  into  a  fit,  of  laughter. 

"  No,  no,  my  young  friend,  that  need  not  weigh  down  you; 
conscience,"  he  said,  kindly  patting  her  cheek.  "  Your  parents 


THE   PIKST   LAUREL- WEEATH.  59 

do  not  ask  such  a  sacrifice  of  you,  and,  besides,  you  Lave  to 
grow  a  little  older  in  order  to  be  able  to  make  it.  But  tell  me 
now  if  your  mother  will  soon  be  here,  or  if  I  must  lay  on  your 
little  shoulders  all  I  have  to  communicate  to  her." 

"  She  has  gone  to  St.  Sulpice,  and  will  not  be  back  until 
dinner." 

"  Well,  then,  listen  to  me.  '  Irene'  will  be  performed  to-mor- 
row night ;  but  there  will  be  such  a  throng  that  your  mother 
must  be  at  the  theater  half  an  hour  earlier  than  usual  if  she 
wants  to  witness  the  ceremonies  in  honor  of  the  poet,  which 
are  to  precede  the  performance.  I  have  just  seen  Voltaire, 
and  am,  therefore,  well-informed  of  everything.  Marmontel 
detained  me  a  long  time  on  my  way  to  your  house ;  otherwise 
i  should  have  been  here  an  hour  ago.  He  had  in  his  pocket  a 
letter  from  Voltaire,  which  he  insisted  on  reading  to  me.  The 
sarcastic  old  gentleman  writes  him  in  it  that  but  for  his  '  Belis- 
aire'  the  whole  literature  of  our  century  would  present  a 
pitiful  appearance ;  and  Marmontel  believes  every  word  of 
it,  and  feels  highly  flattered  by  it.  You  know  the  work ; 
he  presented  you  a  copy  of  it,  beautifully  bound ;  and  I  am 
sure,  if  he  had  not  written  it,  you  might  have  done  it  just  as 
well." 

"  I  do  not  find  it  as  easy  to  write  a  book  as  I  thought  it  was 
before  I  tried  to  do  so,"  replied  Germaine,  very  gravely. 

"  A  very  true  and  sensible  remark,  my  young  friend,"  said 
Raynal,  approvingly.  "  You  are  daily  growing  more  and  more 
sagacious,  and  make  me  quite  proud  of  you." 

Germaine  cast  a  grateful  glance  at  him. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  praise  me,"  she  said,  "  and  feel 
then  doubly  anxious  to  deserve  your  good  opinion." 

<;  I  shall  always  do  so  when  you  look  so  kindly  at  me,"  said 
Haynal,  affectionately.  "  We  old  men  like  to  be  kindly  treated 


60  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

by  young  folks.  We  have  need  of  them,  while  they  can  do 
without  us." 

"  I  do  not  think  we  can,"  replied  Germaine.  "  We  haye  to 
learn  a  great  deal  from  you." 

"  It  is  true,  that  would  be  the  right  course ;  bot  very  few 

•  young  folks  deem  it  prudent  to  pursue  it.    They  scout  the 

good  advice  of  old  men  as  entirely  superfluous,  and  so  we 

finally  learn  to  keep  silence.    Such  is  the  course  of  the  world, 

my  child." 

"  At  all  events,  my  dear  Abbe,  you  shall  find  that  I  do  not 
pursue  it,"  warmly  exclaimed  Germaine,  taking  his  hands  be- 
tween both  of  hers.  "  You  must  tell  me  all  that  I  should  know  ; 
for  you  are  my  best  friend." 

"And  you  are  likewise  my  best  little  friend,"  replied  the 
old  gentleman.  Taking  her  head  between  his  hands,  he  im- 
printed a  kiss  on  her  forehead,  and,  nodding  to  her  a  parting 
greeting  in  the  door,  hastened  from  the  room. 

As  soon  as  the  door  had  closed  after  him,  Germaine  fetched 
pen  and  ink,  and  wrote  down  what  he  had  requested  her  to  tell 
her  mother.  The  excitable  state  of  her  mind,  which  was  easily 
carried  away  by  all  sorts  of  impressions,  caused  her  to  forget 
quickly  what  had  fallen  on  her  ear  without  producing  a  deeper 
effect  upon  her ;  for  this  reason  her  mother  had  taught  her  to 
jot  down  all  such  little  items.  As  soon  as  she  had  done  so,  she 
took  up  a  book  and  read  until  her  mother's  return. 

M.  Necker  had  determined  to  give  himself  a  holiday,  and  ac- 
company his  wife  and  daughter  to  the  theater  in  order  to  wit- 
ness the  sixth  performance  of"  Irene."  The  tragedy  had  been 
played  five  times,  and  the  poet  had  been  unable  to  be  present 
at  any  of  these  representations.  The  rehearsals  had  greatly 
exhausted  him  ;  he  had  been  taken  sick  in  consequence,  and 
he  had  recovered  only  a  clay  or  two  since.  All  Paris  was  now 


THE   FIRST  LAUREL-WREATH.  61 

desirous  of  celebrating  his  recovery.  It  had  been  arranged  that 
he  was  to  attend  the  first  sitting  of  the  Academy,  and  thence 
repair  to  the  theater.  Madame  Necker  had  been  informed  by 
her  friends  of  the  hour  when  he  would  start,  and  had  secured 
for  herself  and  Germaine  a  window  close  to  the  Louvre,  where 
they  could  see  the  illustrious  poet  pass  by.  M.  Necker  intend- 
ed to  go  to  the  Academy,  and  afterwards  join  his  wife  and 
daughter,  and  accompany  them  to  the  theater.  Both  of  them 
anxiously  looked  forward  to  the  moment  when  Voltaire's  car- 
riage would  slowly  drive  through  the  crowded  streets.  All 
stores  were  closed  to-day,  all  laborers  had  ceased  working,  and 
not  a  Parisian  gamin  had  remained  at  home. 

The  large,  open  carriage  had  been  at  the  door  for  some 
time  already,  when  Voltaire,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  Mar- 
quis de  Villctte,  made  his  appearance.  Immediately,  all  caps 
were  thrown  into  the  air,  and  deafening  acclamations  burst 
forth. 

The  poet  looked  greatly  exhausted ;  but  he  had  not  neglected 
dressing  in  consonance  with  the  celebration  of  the  day. 
He  wore  his  very  large  and  long  wig,  which  he  used  to  comb 
every  morning  himself,  and  which  had  covered  his  head  for 
forty  years  past ;  his  crimson-velvet  coat  was  trimmed  and 
lined  with  the  magnificent  ermine  which  the  Empress  of  Rus- 
sia had  presented  to  him  several  years  ago  ;  and  his  lace  cutfs 
were  perhaps  still  longer  than  usual,  and  made  of  the  most 
exquisite  point  d'Alencon. 

The  carriage  moved  slowly  down  the  narrow  street  toward 
the  Louvre.  Here  all  gates,  and  every  accessible  point  were 
densely  crowded  with  enthusiastic  spectators,  whose  cheers 
grew  perfectly  deafening  as  soon  as  they  caught  sight  of  him. 
The  members  of  the  Academy  came  to  meet  him  in  the  ante- 
rot;  ni — an  honor  which  they  had  hitherto  not  paid  to  any  of 


62  MADAME    DE   STAEL. 

their  colleagues.  He  was  conducted  to  the  President's  chair, 
and  unanimously  requested  to  take  it. 

Voltaire  gratefully  received  all  these  marks  of  homage,  and 
listened  attentively  to  a  eulogy  which  d'Alembert  delivered  on 
Boileau. 

When  the  sitting  was  over,  many  Mends  of  his  greeted  him, 
and  among  them  Necker  also  stepped  up  to  him  and  cordially 
held  out  his  hand  to  him. 

"  You  have  put  me  to  your  triumphal  car  to-day,"  he  said, 
smilingly.  "  You  appear  everywhere  as  a  triumpher,  as  the 
Cajsar  of  our  century." 

"  I  cannot  complain,  since  you,  my  Cato,  have  risen  for  me," 
replied  Voltaire,  quickly;  for  other  friends  already  thronged 
around  him. 

When  he  left  the  old  Louvre,  his  passage  to  the  Tuileries 
really  resembled  a  triumphal  procession.  A  vast  concourse  of 
people  filled  the  large  court  of  the  Princes ;  no  less  crowded 
with  spectators  was  the  high  terrace  of  the  garden,  where  a 
galaxy  of  the  most  beautiful  ladies  had  assembled,  and  waved 
their  handkerchiefs  to  their  favorite  poet.  When  his  carriage 
drew  near,  the  enthusiasm  of  the  crowd  knew  no  bounds ;  all 
wished  to  see  him  and  pay  him  homage,  and  many  persons 
even  tried  to  cling  to  the  wheels  of  the  carriage,  in  order  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  illustrious  man. 

As  soon  as  Voltaire  had  taken  his  seat  at  the  theater,  between 
Madame  de  Villette  and  Madame  Denis,  his  niece,  M.  Brizan  ap- 
peared with  a  laurel-wreath,  which  Madame  de  Villette  placed 
on  the  poet's  head.  Voltaire,  however,  immediately  took  oft' 
the  wreath,  and  the  deafening  shouts  and  cheers  of  the  audience 
could  not  prevail  on  him  to  adorn  himself  with  it  again. 

All  the  ladies  had  risen  at  his  entrance,  and  Madame  Neck<;r 
and  her  daughter  had  not.  failed  to  follow  their  example. 


THE   FIRST  LAUREL-WREATH.  63 

"  How  happy  Voltaire  must  be  to-day,"  whispered  Gerrnaine 
to  her  mother.  "  I  should  like  to  be  crowned  likewise !  But 
I  am  afraid  it  is  impossible." 

The  theater,  meanwhile,  became  more  and  more  crowded  ; 
even  the  corridors  were  filled  to  their  utmost  capacity ;  all 
wished  to  see  the  poet,  and  the  spectators  in  the  pit  were 
almost  suffocated  by  the  heavy  pressure  from  without.  The 
royal  box  was  occupied  by  the  court,  Marie  Antoinette  and  her 
ladies  honoring  by  their  presence  the  Sophocles  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  The  blue,  silver-embroidered  dress  of  the 
Queen,  the  ostrich  plumes  and  diamonds  on  her  tall  toupet, 
added  to  the  charming  appearance  of  her  majesty  ;  and  well 
did  she  deserve  the  general  admiration  that  was  bestowed  on 
her,  as  she  bent  with  a  sweet  smile  over  the  railing  of  her  box 
in  order  to  greet  the  poet. 

Such  was  the  excitement  reigning  in  the  vast  audience,  that 
more  than  twenty  minutes  elapsed  before  the  actors  were  able 
to  obtain  a  hearing.  At  length,  however,  the  audience  became 
more  quiet,  and  listened  to  the  play. 

"Irene"  was  never  performed  with  greater  perfection  than 
to-night,  and  the  most  rapturous  applause  rewarded  the  actors. 

At  the  close  of  the  performance,  there  were  fresh  bursts  of 
applause,  and  the  poet  was  called  before  the  curtain.  Voltaire 
stepped  forward  and  bowed  his  thanks  to  the  audience.  At 
the  same  moment,  there  rose  in  the  middle  of  the  stage,  as  if 
by  a  magician's  wand,  a  pedestal,  surmounted  by  the  poet's 
bust,  and  all  the  actors  surrounded  it  in  order  to  wreath  and 
crown  it.  Voltaire's  name  burst  from  all  lips,  and  every  kind 
of  praise,  every  expression  of  admiration  which  the  human 
heart  is  able  to  conceive.  Here,  at  least,  envy  had  to  be  silent. 

Madame  Vestris  now  came  forward  and  addressed  the  follow- 
ing lines  to  the  illustrious  man: 


64  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

Aux  yeux  de  Paris  enchante, 

Re9oie  en  ce  jour  nn  hommage 

Que  conflrmera  d'Sge  en  age 

La  severe  poaterite. 

Non,  tu  n'as  pas  besoin  d'atteindre  an  noir  rivage 
Pour  jouir  de  Thonneur  de  1'immortalitc. 

Voltaire,  recois  la  couronne 

Que  Ton  vient  de  te  presenter ; 

II  est  beau  de  la  meriter 

Qnand  c'est  la  France  qui  la  donne. 

These  lines  were  in  keeping  with  the  feelings  of  the  audience; 
they  were  vociferously  encored,  and  she  was  obliged  to  repeat 
them  again  and  again,  until  the  audience  knew  them  by  heart. 

Voltaire's  appearance  indicated  that  he  was  greatly  exhaust- 
ed. At  his  age  it  is  very  difficult  to  bear  up  under  such  in- 
tense excitement,  and  his  pale  face  betrayed  the  pains  he  took 
in  order  to  keep  erect.  His  glistening  eyes,  however,  and  the 
almost  melancholy  expression  of  his  lips,  showed  that  he  was 
by  no  means  insensible  to  the  enthusiastic  homage  paid  to  him. 

Upon  stepping  out  into  the  passage,  he  found  all  the  ladies 
ranged  into  two  lines,  and  Voltaire  had  to  walk  between  them 
to  his  carriage.  At  the  door  he  was  again  detained.  The 
crowd  shouted,  "  Torches !  Torches  !  We  all  want  to  see 
him ! "  He  was  scarcely  able  to  reach  his  carriage.  His  im- 
petuous admirers  then  jumped  on  the  steps  in  order  to  kiss  his 
hand.  The  coachman  was  requested  to  drive  slowly,  that  the 
people  might  be  able  to  escort  it ;  and  amidst  shouts  of  "  Vive 
Voltaire!"  and,  "He  has  written  Oedipe,  Merope,  and  Zaire" 
the  crowd  accompanied  him,  as  far  as  the  Pont  Royal. 

Voltaire,  who,  as  we  said  before,  was  greatly  exhausted, 
leaned  back  in  a  corner  of  the  carriage  and  had  closed  his  eyes. 
Overpowered  by  the  impressions  of  the  eventful  day,  he  was 
no  longer  able  to  withstand  them.  "It  is  too  much!"  he 
said  in  a  low  voice,  and  held  his  hand  before  his  eyes. 

When  he  reached  the  house  of  the  Marquis  de  VilleUe,  he 


THE   FIRST   LAUREL-WREATH.  05 

found  that  another  carriage  had  already  arrived  there  before 
him.  It  now  gave  place  to  his,  and  as  soon  as  he  alighted,  two 
ladies  appeared  before  him. 

"  Permit  my  daughter  to  present  her  laurel-wreath,  too, 
to  you,  Voltaire,"  said  M.  Necker  to  the  poet,  while  Germaiue 
-bent  her  knee,  and  presented  the  wreath  to  him.  "  She  has 
witnessed  to-day  scenes  which  she  will  never  forget ;  for  such 
moments  remain  isolated ;  they  never  recur." 

"  They  never  recur,"  gently  said  Voltaire,  drawing  the  young 
girl  to  him,  and  imprinting  a  paternal  kiss  on  her  forehead. 
"  They  never  recur  ! "  he  added,  faintly ;  "  so  give  no  more 
wreaths  to  me.  Let  her  keep  this  wreath  who  presented  it  to  me." 

So  saying,  he  placed  the  laurel-wreath  on  the  head  of  the 
young  girl,  who  uttered  a  low  cry  when  she  saw  herself  crown- 
ed in  this  manner.  Trembling  with  happiness,  she  intended 
to  seize  Voltaire's  hand ;  but  the  poet  had  turned  even  paler 
than  before,  and  was  about  to  sink  to  the  ground.  M.  Necker 
quickly  hastened  to  him,  supported  him  with  his  strong  arms, 
and,  assisted  by  the  footman,  carried  Voltaire  into  the  house 
and  to  his  room. 

Madame  Necker  had  meanwhile  entered  the  carriage  with 
her  daughter,  and  quietly  awaited  the  return  of  her  husband. 
Germaine  still  wore  the  laurel-wreath  on  her  head,  and  her 
eyes  beamed  strangely. 

"  You  may  consider  this  event  a  presage,"  began  her  mother, 
"  that  fate  intends  to  open  to  your  mind  a  more  extensive  and 
conspicuous  sphere  than  is  usually  granted  to  our  sex.  A 
great  many  opportunities  are  presented  to  you  to  cultivate  your 
mind  ;  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  imitate  the  example  which  these 
illustrious  persons  set  you,  and  if  you  are  courageous  and 
energetic  enough  to  aspire  to  the  highest  goal,  you  will  be  cer- 
tain to  reach  it. 


66  MADAME    DE   STAEL. 

Germaine  looked  at  her  mother  inquiringly,  and  heaved  a 
deep  sigh.  "  Yes,  if  I  were  a  boy ! "  she  said,  despondingly. 

"  Why,  my  child  ?  "  asked  Madame  Necker,  in  surprise. 

"  It  would  then  be  so  easy  for  me  to  enter  the  path  of  fame ; 
for  all  I  should  have  to  do  would  be  to  walk  in  the  footsteps  of 
illustrious  men.  But  a  girl  is  unable  to  do  so.  I  am  at 
a  loss  to  know  what  goal  I  am  to  mark  out  for  me.  Tell  me,  - 
mamma,  the  name  of  the  lady  whom  you  would  like  me  best 
to  resemble  ?  " 

Madame  Necker  was  unable  to  answer  this  question  imme- 
diately. 

"  I  do  not  want  you  to  resemble  any  of  those  whom  you 
have  met  I  want  you  to  ascend  to  an  eminence  which  no 
woman  has  reached  before  you.  At  all  events,  I  want  you  to 
make  the  attempt." 

"  But  it  is  so  very  difficult  to  aspire  to  a  degree  of  perfection 
which  one  has  never  seen." 

"  You  may  imagine  it." 

"  Yes,  like  that  of  Gorilla  and  Voltaire ;  but  I  shall  never  be 
like  them."  She  sighed.  "  Do  you  not  think,  mamma,  I  might 
imitate  Madame  de  Genlis  ?  She  writes  so  very  beautifully  ! " 

"  That  is  not  enough ;  one  must,  besides,  be  entitled  to  per- 
sonal respect  and  admiration.  The  woman  must  never  be 
separated  from  the  poetess,  my  child." 

"  But  is  that  so  in  her  case  ?  " 

"  You  shall  make  her  acquaintance,  and  then  judge  for  your- 
self;  but  until  then  do  not  question  me  any  more  about  her." 

At  this  moment  M.  Necker  stepped  from  the  house.  This 
put  an  end  to  the  conversation  between  mother  and  daughter. 
They  quickly  drove  home,  and  Germaine  Necker  hastened  to 
her  room  and  hung  the  laurel-wreath  over  her  bed,  whore 
sweet  dreams  soon  hovered  around  her. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  VISIT   TO   ROUSSEAU. 

GERMAINE  NBCKER  passed  a  very  restless  and  dreamy  night. 
At  daybreak  she  awoke,  and  hastened  to  seat  herself  at  her 
small  writing-table,  in  order  to  work  at  the  manuscript  which 
the  Abbe  had  sent  back  to  her,  with  a  note,  in  which  he  ad- 
vised her  to  subject  it  to  a  revision. 

The  cracking  of  whips  and  sound  of  jingling  bells  inter- 
rupted her  in  this  occupation.  She  rose  and  hastened  to  the 
window.  Snow  covered  all  the  roofs,  and  the  streets  too  were 
shrouded  in  it.  Despite  the  lateness  of  the  season,  the  young 
Queen  Marie  Antoinette  was  once  more  able  to  enjoy  the  fa- 
vorite amusement  of  her  native  country,  and  to  astonish  the 
inhabitants  of  Paris  by  a  brilliant  sleigh-ride.  The  magnifi- 
cent cavalcade  was  just  drawing  near,  and  Germaine  Necker 
opened  the  window  lest  any  part  of  the  gorgeous  spectacle 
should  escape  her. 

The  cavalcade  was  headed  by  a  sleigh  shaped  like  a  large 
bee-hive,  and  supported  by  two  winged  genii ;  the  beautiful 
queen  was  seated  in  it.  The  bracing  air  flushed  her  cheeks  ; 
she  glanced  around  merrily,  and  smiled  whenever  she  saw  a 
gay  face  among  the  lookers-on  in  the  streets. 

Her  proudly  erect  head  was  covered  with  a  bonnet  surmount- 
ed by  three  large  ostrich  plumes ;  and  a  blue-velvet  cloak 
lined  and  trimmed  with  ermine  was  wrapped  round  her  shoul- 
ders. The  sleigh  was  also  lined  with  blue  velvet,  and  on  the 


68  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

outside  covered  with  draperies  of  the  same  material,  beautifully 
embroidered  with  gold. 

Two  splendid  white  horses  drew  this  fairy -like  equipage ; 
their  bits  were  made  of  solid  gold,  and  their  harness  was  deco- 
rated with  blue  velvet  and  golden  bells. 

Germainc  Necker  had  never  seen  anything  like  it ;  as  if  spell- 
bound, she  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  beautiful  Queen ;  and  uttering 
a  cry  of  delight,  she  dropped  the  window  and  clapped  her  hands. 

But  already  the  next  sleigh  attracted  her  attention.  It  was 
that  of  the  Queen's  brother-in-law,  the  Count  d'Artois. 

Rose-red  and  silver  were  the  colors  which  he  had  chosen, 
and  his  sleigh  looked  like  a  huge  shell,  while  he  himself  wore 
a  black-velvet  coat,  richly  trimmed  with  fur,  and  a  Garret-cap 
of  the  same  material.  The  slender  young  man  presented  a 
most  prepossessing  appearance  in  his  tasteful  costume,  and 
many  a  beautiful  lady  glanced  furtively  after  him. 

Now  followed  the  courtiers  of  the  Queen  and  Prince ;  but, 
although  they  likewise  displayed  much  splendor,  their  sleighs 
were  eclipsed  by  those  which  had  preceded  them,  and  so  they 
attracted  less  attention  than  those  of  Marie  Antoinette  and  the 
Count  d'Artois. 

Germaine  Necker  now  closed  her  window,  and  hastened  to 
the  fire-place  in  order  to  warm  her  fingers.  She  was  greatly 
surprised  to  ^see  that  her  mother,  who  had  been  standing 
behind  her  for  some  time  already,  was  in  the  room. 

"  Such  a  sleigh-ride  is  a  very  pleasant  amusement,  is  It  not?" 
said  Madame  Necker,  gazing  into  her  daughter's  eyes.  "  Still 
I  deplore  the  short-sightedness  of  the  Queen,  who  indulges  in 
this  expensive  pleasure  at  a  time  when  the  lower  classes  suffer 
so  much  from  want  and  cold." 

"  I  am  sure  the  Queen  is  not  aware  of  it,"  replied  Germaine. 
"  She  looks  so  good  and  kind-hearted." 


A   VISIT  TO   ROUSSEAU.  6!) 

"  She  is  good  and  kind-hearted,  my  daughter ;  but  it  is  very 
wrong  of  her  to  arrange  expensive  sleigh-rides  at  a  time  when 
so  many  people  are  crying  for  bread.  Can  they  be  blamed  for 
being  exasperated  on  witnessing  such  displays  of  extravagance 
on  the  part  of  the  court  ?  We  should  never  present  our  own 
affluence  in  such  a  manner  to  the  eyes  of  those  who  are  on  the 
brink  of  starvation.  Your  excellent  father  is  now  a  member 
of  the  royal  cabinet,  and  straining  every  nerve  in  order  to  bal- 
ance the  expenditures  and  revenues  of  the  State.  In  the  mean- 
time, he  has  intrusted  me  with  the  management  of  his  own 
fortune,  and  honored  me  in  the  most  flattering  manner  by  the 
confidence  which  he  reposes  in  me.  I  attach  the  more  impor- 
tance to  it  as  I  had  no  dower  to  bring  to  your  father.  My 
knowledge,  my  education,  were  the  only  property  I  possessed 
when  I  came  to  Paris.  Here  your  father  offered  me  his  hand, 
and  I  deemed  myself  only  too  happy  to  share  the  lot  of  so  no- 
ble and  excellent  a  man.  It  is  no  more  than  right  and  just  that 
I  should  now  take  the  utmost  pains  to  prove  to  him  that  I  am 
not  entirely  unworthy  of  the  love  and  happiness  which  he  has 
bestowed  on  me.  I  have  repeatedly  told  you  all  this  already, 
my  daughter,"  said  Madame  Necker ;  "  still  I  believe  I  cannot 
reiterate  it  too  often,  in  order  to  impress  you  duly  with  the 
value  of  a  good  education,  the  only  treasure  which  I  had  to 
offer  to  my  husband." 

"  But  you  were  beautiful,  too,  mother,"  said  Germainc. 

Madame  Necker  blushed  at  this  remark. 

"  That  is  a  mere  matter  of  taste,"  she  replied ;  "  even  though 
your  father,  at  first  perhaps,  paid  some  attention  to  my  ap- 
pearance, he  has  long  since  ceased  attaching  any  importance  to 
it.  Believe  me,  my  child,  love,  as  well  as  friendship,  in  order 
to  be  lasting,  needs  intellectual  harmony,  and  rests  firmly  only 
on  a  basis  of  mutual  respect." 


70  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

"  But  respect,  mother,  is  so  cold,  and  admiration  so  warm ! " 

Madame  Necker  knit  her  brow  slightly,  and  contracted  her 
shapely  mouth.  After  a  brief  pause  of  reflection,  she  replied : 

"  You  must  not  compare  the  delicate  and  refined  conduct  of 
my  friends  with  the  noisy  acclamation  with  which  Voltaire  is 
greeted  everywhere.  The  multitude,  moreover,  as  history 
proves,  is  exceedingly  fickle.  Genuine  merit  never  hankers 
after  its  applause ;  it  is  far  above  such  vanities.  See,  my 
daughter,  there  is  at  this  moment  in  our  city  a  man  whose 
merits  far  surpass  those  of  a  Voltaire,  and  yet  he  sits  alone  in 
his  garret,  thinking  and  writing  for  immortality." 

"  You  allude  to  Kousseau,  mother ! "  exclaimed  Germaine, 
warmly. 

"  I  do,  indeed,  my  child.  And  this  will  show  you  what  a 
heart  this  great  man  possesses.  Read  this  letter  which  he  has 
written.  It  is  addressed  to  his  aged  nurse.  Thomas  brought 
it  to  me ;  you  may  keep  it,  and  learn  from  it  how  beautiful  it 
is  to  be  grateful  for  benefits  that  have  been  conferred  on  us." 

Germaine  seized  the  letter  hastily,  opened  it  and  read  as 
follows : 

"  MONTMORENCT,  July  2,  1761. 

"  Your  letter,  dear  Jacobine,  has  reached  me,  and  gladdened 
my  heart  at  a  moment  when  I  was  unable  to  answer  it. 

"  I  avail  myself  now  of  an  undisturbed  moment  to  thank 
you  for  your  remembrance  and  for  your  love,  which  always 
will  be  dear  to  me.  For  my  part,  I  have  never  ceased  remem- 
bering and  loving  you. 

"  In  times  of  suffering  I  have  often  said  to  myself  that,  if  my 
dear  Jacobine  had  not  nursed  me  so  carefully  in  my  childhood, 
I  should  have  suffered  less  in  later  years. 

"  Believe  me,  I  shall  never  cease  taking  the  most  affectionate 
interest  in  your  health  and  happiness,  and  that  it  will  always 


A   VISIT  TO   ROUSSEAU.  71 

gladden  my  heart  to  hear  from  yourself  that  you  are  well  and 
in  good  spirits. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dear,  good  Jacobine ! 

"  I  do  not  write  anything  about  my  own  health,  in  order  not 
to  grieve  you ;  may  the  good  God  preserve  yours,  and  grant 
you  all  the  blessings  for  which  you  long. 

"  Your  faithful  Jean  Jacques,  who  embraces  you  with  all  his 
heart.  "  ROUSSEAU." 

"  How  kind  !  How  cordial !  "  exclaimed  Germaine,  pro- 
foundly moved,  when  she  had  read  the  letter. 

"  These  simple  words  are  so  very  beautiful  because  of  the 
noble  feelings  which  they  express.  And  now  go  and  dress,  my 
child,  in  order  to  accompany  me  to  Rousseau." 

"  To  Rousseau ! "  exclaimed  Germaine,  as  if  she  hardly 
trusted  her  ears.  "  You  are  jesting,  mother ! " 

"  I  am  in  dead  earnest.  I  wish  to  give  you  an  opportunity 
to  satisfy  yourself  that  genuine  merit  does  not  always  need 
the  pomp  and  noise  of  popular  applause.  For  some  time  past 
I  have  already  tried  to  find  a  pretext  for  paying  him  a  visit ; 
for  he  is  greatly  averse  to  amusing  inquisitive  idlers.  In  order 
to  be  admitted  by  him,  we  will  appear  in  the  simple  costume 
of  my  native  country;  I  am  sure  we  may  permit  ourselves 
this  little  stratagem.  I  shall  send  my  maid  to  you  immediately, 
in  order  to  assist  you  in  dressing.  Go  now  and  put  your  papers 
into  your  bureau." 

So  saying  she  left  the  room.  Germaine  still  remained  for 
some  minutes  in  the  same  attitude,  looking,  as  if  absently,  after 
her  mother.  It  was  not  until  then  that  it  occurred  to  her  that 
she  had  to  make  haste.  She  carefully  folded  up  Rousseau's 
letter,  and  pressed  it  reverentially  to  her  lips  before  putting  it 
into  a  small  case  which  contained  other  precious  relics  of  the 


72  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

same  description ;  she  then  gathered  up  the  leaves  of  her 
manuscript  and  put  it  likewise  into  the  bureau. 

Madame  Necker  had  not  ordered  her  own  carriage,  in  order 
not  to  endanger  her  incognito.  There  were  hackney-coaches  at 
the  corner  of  the  street ;  she  beckoned  to  one  of  them,  and  en- 
tered it  with  her  daughter.  She  ordered  the  coachman  to  drive 
her  to  the  Rue  Platriere,  without  designating  the  number  of  the 
house.  Upon  reaching  that  street,  she  told  him  to  halt,  and 
tried  to  find  the  house  where  the  celebrated  man  lived. 

A  nairow  back-door  led  them  into  a  dark  hall,  where  they 
were  scarcely  able  to  discover  the  staircase.  They  ascended  it 
slowly. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  find  him  at  home,"  whispered  Germaine  to 
her  mother ;  I  should  be  so  sorry  if  he  were  absent." 

"  Do  not  get  excited,"  replied  her  mother.  "  Above  all  things, 
do  not  let  him  see  that  you  know  who  he  is." 

When  they  reached  the  fifth  floor,  Madame  Necker  stood 
still.  Here  lived  the  author  of  "NouvelleHeloise."  She  looked 
about  for  the  door  that  might  lead  to  the  poet's  room.  Al- 
ready she  stretched  out  her  hand  toward  a  bell  before  her,  when 
she  suddenly  heard  somebody  sing. 

She  listened. 

It  was  a  male  voice,  neither  sonorous  nor  agreeable,  and  some- 
what tremulous ;  but  the  intonation  was  perfectly  correct.  It 
seemed  to  be  a  very  melancholy  air,  which  he  sang  repeatedly  ; 
finally  all  was  silent. 

Madame  Necker  now  rapped  at  the  door,  but  so  softly  that 
the  sound  scarcely  fell  on  her  own  ears. 

She  waited  a  while  for  an  answer  from  within.  But  as  none 
was  given,  she  courageously  rang  the  bell. 

Footsteps  resounded  within;  he  approached ;  and  the  door 
opened. 


A   VISIT  TO    ROUSSEAU.  73 

Uermaine,  trembling  with  suspense,  seized  her  mother's 
arm. 

A  man  appeared  now  in  the  half-open  door ;  when  he  per- 
ceived the  two  ladies,  he  politely  took  off  his  cap  and  bowed 
to  them. 

"  Is  this  the  room  of  a  certain  M.  Rousseau,  who  copies 
music  ?  "  inquired  Madame  Necker,  in  an  indifferent  tone, 

"  Yes,  Madame,"  replied  the  man.  "  I  am  Rousseau.  What 
do  you  want  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  told  that  you  are  an  excellent  copyist,  sir,  and 
yet  charge  only  reasonable  prices;  I  would  request  you, 
therefore,  to  copy  some  pieces  for  me," 

"  Pray  come  in,"  replied  Rousseau,  politely. 

Madame  Necker  and  Germaine  now  followed  him  through 
a  dark  and  narrow  ante-chamber  into  his  sitting-room.  Here 
he  invited  Madame  Necker  to  seat  herself  in  an  arm-chair,  and 
placed  another  for  Gerniaine  beside  it 

"  My  costume,  M.  Rousseau,  shows  you  that  I  am  not  a  per- 
manent resident  of  Paris ;  it  would,  therefore,  be  very  agree- 
able to  me  if  you  could  serve  me  immediately," 

"I  have  little  to  do  at  the  present  time,  Madame;  it  will, 
therefore,  afford  me  pleasure  to  work  for  you  immediately. 
What  is  it  that  you  wish  me  to  copy  ?  " 

Madame  Necker  now  handed  him  a  roll  of  music,  which  she 
Lad  hitherto  held  in  her  hand. 

Rousseau  took  it,  and  requested  her  to  keep  her  seat,  and  to 
permit  him  to  put  on  his  cap  again,  while  he  would  glance 
over  the  music.  He  then  sat  down  at  the  table  close  to  them 
and  unfolded  the  roll. 

Madame  Necker  profited  by  this  moment  to  look  about  the 
room. 

Three  old   arm-chairs,  several  other  rickety  chairs,  and   a 
4 


74  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

\vriting-table,  formed  all  the  furniture  which  it  contained.  On 
the  table  lay  several  books,  some  sheet-music  and  dried  plants. 
Over  the  fire-place  hung  an  old  silver  watch.  A  cat  was  sleep- 
ing close  to  the  fire.  A  dozen  views  of  Switzerland  and  sev- 
eral coarse  copperplates  adorned  the  walls.  Among  the  cop- 
perplates she  noticed  a  portrait  of  Frederick  the  Great,  and, 
on  looking  closer  at  it,  she  found  that  Rousseau  had  written 
on  the  margin  the  words,  "  He  thinks  like  a  philosopher,  and 
acts  like  a  king."  * 

Germaine  had  constantly  followed  her  mother's  glance,  and 
both  of  them  now  fixed  their  eyes  on  the  poet's  figure.  His 
form  was  by  no  means  imposing.  He  was  of  medium  height, 
and  had  a  broad,  arched  chest.  His  features  might  be  called 
regular,  but  they  did  not,  by  any  means,  indicate  that  he  was 
a  man  of  genius.  His  eyes,  which  he  now  fixed  on  the  music, 
and  now  on  his  fair  visitors,  were  small,  round,  and  restless. 
His  shaggy  eyebrows  imparted  to  them  a  harsh  and  gloomy 
expression,  which  was  softened  again  by  his  exceedingly 
shapely  and  attractive  mouth.  His  smile  was  so  melancholy, 
and  withal  so  sweet,  that  it  lit  up  his  features  with  a  wondrous 
charm,  and  irresistibly  attracted  his  visitors  toward  him. 

His  dress  consisted  of  a  cotton  cap,  which  did  not  look  very 
neat,  and  was  adorned  with  a  ribbon  which  formerly  had  been  as 
red  as  fire.  He  wore  a  flannel  waistcoat  under  his  furred  coat, 
dark-brown  pantaloons,  gray  stockings,  and  old,  worn-out  shoes. 

Rousseau  had  meanwhile  looked  over  the  music.  He  had 
found  among  the  pieces  an  air  from  "  Le  Devin  du  village," 
which  hud  aroused  his  distrust,  and  he  now  turned  with  a 
searching  glance  to  Madame  Necker. 

"  Do  you  know  the  composer  of  this  air,  Madame  ? "  he 
asked,  sharply. 

*  "  II  pense  en  philosophe  et  sc  conduit  en  roi. 


A    VISIT   TO    KOUSSEATJ.  7«J 

"I  do,"  she  replied,  calmly.  "  His  name  is  too  well  known 
that  I  should  not  have  heard  it ;  but  I  have  never  seen  him. 
He  has  composed  very  pretty  songs,  and  written  excellent 
books.  Are  you  acquainted  with  him,  or  is  he,  perhaps,  even 
a  relative  of  yours  ?  " 

Rousseau  was  about  to  make  a  reply,  but  he  suddenly  inter- 
rupted himself.  He  was  probably  afraid  of  uttering  half  a 
falsehood  by  evading  the  truth,  and  so  he  preferred  keeping 
silence.  Instead  of  answering  Madame  Necker's  question,  he 
smiled  significantly. 

"  We  mothers  are  greatly  indebted  to  M.  Rousseau,"  added 
Madame  Necker.  "  He  has  procured  us  the  right  of  nursing 
our  babes  at  our  own  breasts,  and  thereby  secured  us  the  per- 
formance of  one  of  our  noblest  duties.  This  is  a  gain  which 
we  shall  never  be  able  to  extol  enough." 

Rousseau  cast  on  Madame  Necker  a  glance  reflecting  his 
whole  soul.  At  the  same  time,  a  heavenly  smile  lit  up  his  fea- 
tures. She  perceived  that  she  had  hit  the  spot  where  he  was 
most  perceptible  of  flattery. 

In  the  meantime,  a  woman  about  forty  years  old  had  en- 
tered the  room.  She  bowed  with  studied  politeness  to  the 
ladies,  and,  without  uttering  a  word,  seated  herself  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table  at  which  Rousseau  had  just  sat. 

It  was  Theresa,  Rousseau's  factotum,  who  played  at  the  same 
time  the  role  of  mistress  and  servant. 

Madame  Necker  felt  no  sympathy  for  her,  and  she  had  to 
take  pains  to  conceal  the  unpleasant  impression  which  The- 
resa's appearance  made  upon  her. 

To  resume  the  conversation,  she  asked  now  how  much  Rous- 
seau would  charge  her  for  copying  the  music. 

"  Six  sous  a  page,  Madame,"  replied  Rousseau.  "  That  is  the 
usual  price." 


76  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

"  Shall  I  pay  yon  something  in  advance  ?  "  she  asked,  politely. 
"  You  have  to  purchase  music-paper." 

"  Thank  God,  Madame,  I  am  able  to  do  so,"  replied  Rousseau, 
smiling  at  her  kindness.  "  I  am  in  better  circumstances  than 
you  seem  to  think ;  for  I  receive  a  small  pension,  and — " 

"And  you  might  have  a  much  larger  income,"  interposed 
Theresa,  "  if  you  collected  what  the  opera  owes  you."  So  say- 
ing, she  shrugged  her  shoulders  peevishly. 

Rousseau  made  no  reply.  He  seemed  not  to  be  courageous 
enough  to  enter  into  a  quarrel  with  his  housekeeper.  Since  her 
entrance,  his  bearing  and  expression  had  undergone  a  marked 
change,  and  a  certain  depression  seemed  to  have  seized  him. 
He  restlessly  moved  to  and  fro  on  his  chair ;  finally  he  rose, 
and  begged  permission  to  leave  the  room  for  a  few  moments. 

No  sooner  had  he  withdrawn  than  Theresa  said : 

"  Madame,  pray  excuse  M.  Rousseau ;  I  am  sorry  to  say  that 
he  is  sick." 

Madame  Necker  replied,  there  was  no  need  to  add  any 
excuses  to  those  of  M.  Rousseau. 

"  Have  you  need  of  me,  M.  Rousseau  ?  "  she  now  shouted 
in  a  loud  voice,  no  doubt  to  display  her  solicitude  for  him  in 
the  presence  of  the  strangers. 

"  No,  no ! "  he  replied,  re-entering  the  sitting-room. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  turning  to  his  visitors,  "  pray  intrust 
your  music  to  other  hands  ;  for  I  regret  to  say  that  I  feel  too 
unwell  to  work  for  you  as  rapidly  and  promptly  as  you  desire, 
inasmuch  as  your  sojourn  in  Paris,  perhaps,  will  not  be  of  long 
duration." 

Madame  Necker  replied  that  her  departure  was  not  yet  near 
at  hand,  and  although  she  would  like  to  have  the  music  at  an 
early  day,  she  would  submit  to  a  brief  delay  rather  than  intrust 
it  to  other  hands  which  might  prove  to  be  less  skillful. 


A   VISIT  TO    ROUSSEAU.  77 

With  these  words  she  rose  in  order  to  leave  the  room.  Rous- 
seau politely  accompanied  her  to  the  door,  where  she  took 
leave  of  Theresa  by  coldly  nodding  to  her. 

She  went  down  stairs  with  her  daughter  hi  silence,  and  beck- 
oned to  the  coachman  to  come  up.  No  sooner  had  the  coach 
door  closed  behind  them,  than  Germaine  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands  and  burst  into  low  sobs. 

"  Poor,  poor  man ! "  she  lamented.  "  He  is  going  to  copy  the 
music  at  six  sous  a  page !  That  breaks  my  heart !  Father 
must  give  me  money  for  him,  and  I  will  take  it  to  him.  I  will 
give  him  all  I  have,  my  dresses,  my  jewels — all,  all !  I  do 
not  want  to  sit  any  longer  on  soft  chairs  when  Rousseau  has 
in  his  room  only  such  hard  and  uncomfortable  ones.  Oh,  this 
is  too  dreadful !  The  King  ought  not  to  suffer  it ! " 

Her  mother  allowed  her  to  continue  in  this  manner  for  some 
time ;  she  then  interrupted  her. 

"  Now  compose  yourself,  Gerniainc,"  she  said,  calmly.  "  I 
foresaw  that  the  circumstances  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  would 
make  a  deep  impression  on  you,  and  I  am  glad  that  you  did 
not  give  the  reins  to  your  emotions  in  his  presence.  But  your 
lamentations  are  wasted.  How  can  we  assist  him  who  rejects 
all  offers  of  assistance  ?  It  is  his  greatness  to  reject  all  that  is 
offered  to  him,  and  accept  nothing  but  the  fruits  of  his  labors. 
If  he  would  accept  any  assistance,  many  a  great  King  would 
deem  it  a  glorious  privilege  to  become  the  benefactor  of  Rous- 
seau. But  the  author  of  '  Eniile '  and  the '  Contrat  Social '  will 
not  hear  of  it ;  nor  can  he  do  so  without  incurring  distrust  and 
suspicion." 

"  And  so  he  suffers  all  kinds  of  privations,"  exclaimed 
Germaine,  mournfully.  "  How  melancholy  and  unhappy  he 
looked !  Ah,  never,  never,  shall  I  forget  this  visit  to  Rousseau !" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    PIKST   POEM. 

THE  sun  shed  its  most  scorching  rays  upon  earth.  The  in- 
habitants of  Paris  fled  from  the  oppressive  heat;  the  streets 
were  deserted,  and  the  fine  old  shade-trees  in  the  garden  of 
the  Tuileries  scarcely  afforded  them  sufficient  protection  from 
the  torrid  sunshine.  Even  the  most  industrious  artisans  ceased 
working  to-day. 

The  court  was  at  Versailles ;  the  young  Queen  whiled  away 
her  time  at  her  little  dairy-farm,  while  Louis  the  Sixteenth  was 
occupied  in  his  favorite  pastime,  the  trade  of  a  locksmith.  On 
a  day  when  nobody  was  at  work,  Necker,  too,  could  permit 
himself  a  brief  relaxation,  and  he  did  so  the  more  willingly  as 
Nature  was  still  decked  in  a  thousand  charms. 

During  the  present  year  he  had  not  had  many  opportunities 
of  visiting  his  small  villa  at  St.  Ouen,  where  formerly  he  had 
passed  every  Sunday  in  the  midst  of  his  friends.  He  now 
merrily  invited  some  of  his  intimate  acquaintances  to  share 
with  him  for  a  few  clays  the  pleasures  of  rural  life,  and  they 
willingly  accepted  his  invitation.  He  himself,  accompanied 
by  Grimm  and  Raynal,  preceded  them  to  St.  Ouen  in  order  to 
surprise  his  wife  and  daughter  by  his  unexpected  arrival. 

Madame  Necker  was  not  very  fond  of  rural  solitude.  She 
regarded  as  wasted  every  minute  that  did  not  add  to  her  knowl- 
edge. Hence  nothing  but  a  sense  of  duty  had  induced  her  to 
precede  her  husband  to  the  villa,  in  order  to  superintend  the 


THE    FIRST   POEM.  73 

pieparations  for  a  little  family  festival,  with  which  he  was  to 
be  surprised  to-morrow. 

She  was  standing  at  the  window,  and  gazing  up  to  the  sky 
adorned  with  all  the  gorgeous  tints  of  a  magnificent  sunset. 
She  was  surprised  that  her  husband  should  tarry  so  long,  and, 
pressing  her  high  white  forehead  against  the  window-pane,  she 
listened  if  the  sound  of  coach-wheels  was  not  yet  audible  in 
the  distance. 

Thomas,  who  had  accompanied  her  to  St.  Ouen,  in  order  to 
assist  her  in  the  preparations  for  the  festival,  entered  the  room 
at  this  moment  Pale  and  grave  as  usual,  he  approached  with 
a  slow,  measured  step,  and  placed  himself  by  her  side. 

At  this  moment,  the  merry,  clear  voice  of  Germaine,  who 
was  in  the  garden,  fell  on  their  ears,  and  soon  after  they  saw 
her  running  after  a  young  girl  of  the  same  age,  who  seemed  to 
be  intent  on  concealing  herself  from  Germaine. 

"  She  is  so  old  already,  and  yet  she  likes  to  play  like  a  little 
child,"  said  Madame  Necker,  disapprovingly. 

"  Her  heart  is  still  very  young,  although  her  mind  has  ar- 
rived at  an  almost  precocious  maturity.  I  am  glad  that  you 
have  followed  my  advice  and  given  young  M'lle  Huber  as 
a  companion  to  her.  I  never  saw  Germaine  so  happy  as  on 
the  day  when  you  presented  the  young  girl  to  her." 

"  It  is  unfortunately  but  too  true,  my  friend ! "  said  Madame 
Neeker,  sighing. 

"  Unfortunately  ?    How  so  ?  "  asked  Thomas,  wonderingly. 

"  Let  me  confess,"  replied  Madame  Neeker,  with  half  a  smile, 
"  that  I  was  jealous  of  my  own  child  on  that  day.  I  have  edu- 
cated her  for  myself.  I  have  devoted  myself  entirely  to  her  edu- 
cation, and  must  see  now  that  she  turns  from  me,  and  prefers 
the  little  stranger's  company  to  mine." 

"  You  are  jealous?"  asked  Thomas,  in  surprise,  as  if  he  had 


80  MADAME    DE    8TAEL. 

not  heard  anything  but  this  word.  "  If  you  can  yield  to  jeal- 
ousy on  this  occasion,  what  would  you  feel  in  my  place  ?  " 

Madame  Necker  blushed,  and  averted  her  face. 

"  Shall  we  go  down  to  the  garden  ?  "  she  asked. 

' '  You  are  dressed  too  airily  ;  you  have  changed  your  toilcltc 
for  the  arrival  of  your  husband,"  said  Thomas,  looking  at  her 
dress,  which  sat  charmingly  on  her.  The  transparent  dress  of 
white  gauze  veiled  her  beautiful  neck  and  full  white  arms  but 
very  imperfectly,  and  her  tall  slender  form  seemed  even  more 
delicate  in  the  airy  costume  which  she  wore.  He  gazed  at  her 
admiringly.  "  A  genuine  queen  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,"  lie  ex- 
claimed. "  How  beautiful  you  are  to-day." 

Instead  of  making  a  reply,  Madame  Necker  turned,  rang  the 
bell,  and  ordered  the  servant  to  bring  in  lights.  At  the  same 
moment  Germaine  rushed  into  the  room.  But  as  soon  as  she 
caught  sight  of  her  mother,  she  slackened  her  step,  and  as- 
sumed a  stiff  attitude. 

"  A  cloud  of  dust  is  drawing  near — it  mtist  be  he  ! "  she  ex- 
claimed, with  beaming  eyes. 

"  Who  ?  You  should  always  mention  the  names  of  the  per- 
sons to  whom  you  refer,"  said  her  mother. 

"  I  spoke  of  my  father.  Whom  else  could  I  have  referred  to? 
For  three  long,  long  days  I  have  not  seen  him,  and,  if  he 
brings  guests  with  him,  as  I  expect  he  will,  how  little  time  he 
will  be  able  to  devote  to  me  even  to-night!"  she  exclaimed  in 
a  mournful  tone,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  Germaine ! "  cried  Madame  Necker,  disapprovingly.  "  Yo;i 
shed  tears  again !  Must  you  weep,  then,  on  all  joyful  occa- 
sions? My  poor,  poor  child!  What  will  remain  to  you  for 
grief  in  case  it  should  knock  at  your  door?"  * 

*  M'llo  Iliiber  said  of  Germaine  Necker,  "  Ce  qui  I'amusait  etait  ce  qui  U 
lau-ait  pluurcr." 


THE   FIKST   POEM.  81 

"  Nothing  can  grieve  me  more,"  continued  the  young  girl, 
"  than  to  be  so  indifferent  to  my  noble  father  that  he  hardly 
misses  me  when  I  am  far  from  him  1 " 

"  But  is  not  such  the  case  with  me,  too  ?  Did  I  not  leave 
him  in  order  to  pass  these  days  with  you  at  St.  Ouen  ?  and 
will  he  now  be  able  to  devote  all  his  tune  to  me  ?  You  are  a 
foolish  child,  Germaine." 

"  Ah,  I  am  very,  very  unhappy !  I  should  like  to  be  every- 
thing to  him,  and  I  am  but  his  child.  But  you  are  the  wife  of 
his  heart ;  he  chose  you ! " 

"  Hush,  hush,  I  do  not  want  to  hear  any  more  of  these  fool- 
ish complaints,"  said  Madame  Necker,  coldly  and  sternly. 
"  Go  to  your  room  and  calm  yourself,  so  as  to  be  able  to  re- 
ceive our  guests  becomingly.  What  would  your  friend  Raynal 
say  if  he  should  see  you  now  ?  " 

The  girl,  sighing,  left  the  room. 

"  It  is  very  singular,"  remarked  Thomas,  when  the  door  had 
closed  after  her,  "  that  Germaine  should  be  so  passionate  and 
impetuous  in  her  affections.  And  then  this  jealousy  of  her 
own  mother ! " 

"  I  do  not  know  myself  how  so  unnatural  a  feeling  can  have 
arisen  in  her  heart,"  replied  Madame  Necker,  covering  her 
eyes  with  her  beautiful  white  hand  in  order  to  conceal  her 
grief  from  Thomas'  view.  "  I  am  often  at  a  loss  how  to  coun- 
teract this  jealousy.  She  always  draws  comparisons  between 
herself  and  me,  and  they  generally  result  in  adding  to  her  de- 
pression. Hence  I  am  taking  pains  to  impress  her  with  a  sense 
of  the  superiority  of  her  education.  I  constantly  urge  her  to 
strive  for  fame  and  discard  vanity  ;  but  just  when  I  hope  to 
have  led  her  into  the  right  path,  there  happens  such  an  out- 
burst, and  overthrows  my  whole  structure." 

"  May  be  to-morrow's  festival  will  produce  a  salutary  effect 
4* 


82  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

• 

upon  her ;  for  praise  will  not  be  wanting  to  her,"  said  Thomas, 
consolingly. 

"  That  is  what  I  thought,  too ;  the  trouble  is  only  that  her 
own  father  does  not  think  very  highly  of  literary  women,  and 
believes  that  only  such  of  them  as  possess  very  marked  talents 
should  lay  their  productions  before  the  public.  It  remains 
to  be  seen  whether  or  not  he  will  consider  his  daughter  suffi- 
ciently gifted." 

"Why  should  he  not?"  asked  Thomas,  smiling.  "Do  you 
not  know  that  paternal  love  likes  to  adorn  its  darlings  with 
very  beautiful  plumes  ?  " 

"  But  its  eyes  are  not  bandaged  like  those  of  the  little  god 
of  love,"  replied  Madame  Necker,  jocularly.  "  And  as  I  see 
that  my  daughter  has  magnificent  eyes,  but  an  ugly  snub-nose 
and  thick  negro  lips,  so  her  father  may  think  that,  with  a  great 
deal  of  mind  and  an  extraordinary  imagination,  she  is  wanting 
in  plastic  diction,  and  prevented  by  her  restless  and  passionate 
temper  from  making  up  by  earnest  application  for  what  nature 
has  refused  to  her.  If  such  should  be  his  opinion,  he  will  not 
encourage,  but  restrain  her,  and  thus  destroy  my  last  hope."  , 

"  Yes,  if  such  should  be  his  opinion,"  said  Thomas.  "  But 
let  us  wait  and  see.  In  that  event  I  can  only  say  to  him  with 
Pope,  '  True  ease  in  writing  comes  from  art,  not  chance,'  and 
ask  him  to  wait  until  she  acquires  the  skill  in  which  he  thinks 
her  to  be  deficient," 

"  Do  so.  Meanwhile  your  courage  will  sustain  me.  Let  us 
wait  and  see." 

"  Provided  it  does  not  last  too  long,"  exclaimed  Raynal,  who 
entered  the  room  at  this  moment  and  overheard  the  last  words. 
"  It  is  very  pleasant  to  wait  for  one  of  your  epicurean  suppers, 
which  always  indemnify  us  for  curbing  our  impatience,  so 
richly  that  my  old  mouth  waters  at  the  mere  thought  of  them. 


THE    FIIIST   POEM.  83 

But  as  a  general  thing  I  am  not  very  fond  of  this  theory  of 
waiting.  It  proved  most  effective  in  Roman  history,  when 
Fabius  Cunctator  avoided  a  pitched  battle  and  hemmed  in  his 
enemies.  But  no\v-a-days;  ahem!  Franklin  did  not  wait; 
he  swam  like  a  duck  across  the  immense  ocean,  and  accom- 
plished his  purpose.  Had  he  remained  at  home,  he  would  not 
have  obtained  anything  from  us." 

"  He  was  not  indebted  for  his  success  to  his  eloquence,"  said 
Thomas,  sneeringly. 

"  God  knows  he  was  not.  It  seemed  almost  as  though  the 
American  Embassador  was  mute,  so  little  had  he  to  say.  How- 
ever, he  is  doing  now  a  great  deal  better.  Since  France  has 
declared  for  the  Colonies,  his  tongue  has  been  loosened.  I  met 
him  the  other  day  at  a  dinner-party,  and  was  amiable  enough 
to  address  him  as  follows :  '  I  must  confess  to  you,  sir,  that 
America  presents  a  truly  grand  spectacle.'  '  Yes,'  replied  the 
taciturn  doctor  from  Philadelphia ;  '  but  the  spectators  refuse 
to  pay  for  it'  Let  me  ask  you  if  that  was  not  a  very  sharp 
answer  ?  " 

All  laughed. 

"  Did  you  hear  that  he  is  courting  the  widow  of  Helvetius  ?  " 
asked  Madame  Necker. 

"  I  did,  indeed,"  replied  Raynal.  "  And  he  is  in  dead  earn- 
est about  it ;  he  is  head  and  ears  in  love  with  her,  and  wants 
to  marry  her." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  that  is  a  mere  supposition,"  said  Madame 
Necker. 

"  But  a  well-grounded  one.  "We  men  are  sometimes  likewise 
keen-sighted  in  this  respect  Believe  me,  if  it  depended  on  him, 
he  would  take  this  charming  widow  to  America.  But  she 
loves  her  independence,  and  is  afraid  of  the  sea." 

"Whom  are  you  speaking  of?     Of  Madame  Helvetius?" 


84  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

asked  Grimm,  entering  the  room.  "  In  that  event,  I  can  tell  you 
something  that  will  ainuse  you.  Franklin  has  proposed  to 
her,  and  been  rejected.  He  goes  home  in  high  dudgeon,  and 
•writes  the  following  letter.  Hear  I  hear  1 "  So  saying,  he  took 
a  paper  from  his  pocket  and  read  : 

"  I  returned  last  night  to  my  house  greatly  dejected  at  your 
determination  not  to  marry  again,  in  honor  of  your  late  la- 
mented husband.  In  my  despondency,  I  threw  myself  on  my 
bed,  and  dreamed  that  I  was  dead,  and  walking  in  the  Elysian 
Fields.  I  was  asked  there  whom  I  wished  to  see.  '  Conduct 
me  to  the  philosophers,'  I  replied.  '  There  are  two  of  them 
close  by ;  they  are  on  very  friendly  terms.'  '  Who  are  they  "i ' 
'  Socrates  and  Helvetius.'  '  I  feel  the  highest  respect  for  both 
of  them,  but  I  should  prefer  to  see  Helvetius  first,  because  I 
am  somewhat  familiar  with  French,  while  I  do  not  know  a 
word  of  Greek.'  He  received  me  very  politely,  and  assured 
me  that  he  had  long  since  known  me  by  name.  He  then  in- 
quired very  anxiously  about  the  state  of  religion,  liberty,  and 
government  in  France.  '  You  do  not  ask  me  at  all  about  your 
dear  friend,  Madame  Helvetius?  And  yet  she  loves  you  so 
dearly !  It  is  only  an  hour  since  she  told  me  so.'  '  Ah,  you 
remind  me  of  the  days  of  past  happiness ;  but  those  who  wish 
to  be  happy  here,  must  not  call  them  to  mind.  At  first  my 
thoughts  always  were  with  her.  I  then  took  another  wife,  who 
bears  a  passable  resemblance  to  her ;  it  is  true,  she  is  not  as 
beautiful  as  my  widow,  but  she  possesses  a  great  deal  of  mind 
and  common  sense,  and  loves  me  so  dearly  that  she  does  not 
long  for  anything  else  than  to  please  me.  She  has  just  left  me 
to  fetch  some  nectar  and  ambrosia  for  my  supper.  Stay  here, 
sir,  in  order  to  get  acquainted  with  her.'  '  I  see  that  the  fi- 
delity of  your  first  wife  far  surpasses  yours,  inasmuch  as  she 
rejects  all  proposals.  I  myself  loved  her  madly ;  but 


THE   FIRST  POEM.  85 

could  prevail  on  her  to  desist  from  her  purpose,  arid  marry  me.' 
'  I  am  sorry  for  you,'  he  said, '  for  she  is  a  very  good  and  ami- 
able woman.  But  do  the  Abbes,  Laroche  and  M ,  not  some- 
times call  on  her  yet  ? '  '  They  do,  indeed,  for  she  has  re- 
tained all  her  old  friends.'  '  You  should'  have  tried  to  gain 

M over  to  your  side  by  means  of  some  cafe  d  la  creme; 

perhaps  you  would  then  have  been  more  successful,  for  he  is  as 
able  a  speaker  as  St.  Thomas  was,  and  knows  so  well  how  to 
argue  a  point  that  no  one  is  able  to  refute  him ;  you  might 
have  also  caused  the  other  Abbe,  Laroche,  to  oppose  your  suit, 
by  presenting  him  with  a  fine  edition  of  the  Classics  ;  perhaps 
this  would  have  been  still  better,  for  I  always  noticed  that  she 
liked  to  do  the  reverse  of  what  he  advised  to  her.'  At  this 
moment  the  new  Madame  Helvetius,  in  whom  I  recognized 
immediately  my  old  American  friend,  Mrs.  Franklin,  made 
her  appearance.  I  requested  her  to  follow  me,  but  she  re- 
plied coldly,  '  I  have  been  a  good  wife  to  you  for  forty- 
nine  years  and  four  months,  and  thought  that  that  would 
satisfy  you.  Now  I  have  formed  this  new  acquaintance, 
which  is  to  last  eternally.'  Vexed  at  this  refusal  of  my 
Eurydice,  I  immediately  resolved  not  to  stay  any  longer  with 
these  ungrateful  shades,  and  to  return  to  this  world  of  sun- 
shine and  to  you.  Here  I  am  now.  Let  us  avenge  our  wrongs 
together." 

"A  capital  letter!"  exclaimed  Eaynal.  "  But  confess,  it  is 
merely  a  jest  of  yours  or  a  mystification." 

"  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  Still  waters  are  deep.  You 
see  now  how  cleverly  Franklin  revenges  himself  on  the  lady 
who  rejected  his  suit,  but  lends  a  willing  ear  to  the  tender  sighs 
of  others." 

Necker  had  meanwhile  entered  the  room,  and  cast  a  signi- 
ficant glance  on  Grimm. 


BQ  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

u  The  letter  will  afford  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  to  your  sov- 
ereign, the  Empress  of  Russia,"  tie  said. 

"  That  is  the  reason  why  I  copied  it,"  replied  Grimm, 
gravely. 

"  What  does  my  young  friend  think  of  it?"  asked  Raynal, 
turning  to  Germaine,  who  clung  to  her  father's  arm.  "  I  have 
to  speak  with  her  privately  as  soon  as  we  have  tasted  M. 
Necker's  nectar,  which  I  shall  relish  after  the  dust  on  the  road 
and  the  heat  of  the  day,  no  less  than  poor  Helvetius  did  that 
which  his  Hebe  presented  to  him." 

"  At  bottom,  that  letter  is  somewhat  impious,  and,  above  all, 
decidedly  immoral,"  said  Madame  Necker,  emphatically. 

"  If  we  keep  in  mind  the  object  for  which  it  was  written,  I 
think  you  are  mistaken,"  said  M.  Necker,  merrily.  "  We  can- 
not do  without  jests.  For  the  rest,  opinions  differ  greatly  as 
to  what  is  moral.  For  my  part,  I  say,  La  morale  est  la  nature 
des  c?ioses." 

Germaine  raised  her  radiant  eyes  to  her  father's  face,  and 
pressed  his  arm  to  her  side,  in  order  to  show  that  she  under- 
stood him,  and  approved  what  he  said.  Madame  Necker  no- 
ticed it.  A  slight  cloud  passed  over  her  features,  and,  inter- 
rupting the  conversation,  she  rose  and  requested  the  guests  to 
follow  her. 

Additional  guests  arrived  next  morning,  and  the  little  villa 
was  soon  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity. 

Germaine  Necker  was  invisible.  She  sat  with  M'lle  Huber 
in  a  shady  bosquet  of  the  garden,  studying  her  role;  for  she 
intended  to  play  herself  the  heroine  in  her  drama  to-day.  A 
small  stage  had  been  erected  in  a  pavilion ;  and  Raynal,  who 
Avas  likewise  to  appear  in  the  drama,  accompanied  her  now 
thither,  in  order  to  rehearse  the  whole  once  more. 

In  the  afternoon  the  quests  were  informed  of  the  entertain- 


THE   FIRST   POEM.  87 

ment  which  was  in  store  for  them,  and  all  hastened  to  the 
pavilion.  Germaine  was  behind  the  scenes  when  the  specta- 
tors entered,  and  she  looked  anxiously  through  a  hole  in  the 
curtain  hi  order  to  see  the  air  with  which  her  father  looked 
forward  to  the  performance. 

It  had  been  resolved  not  to  inform  M.  Necker  that  Germaine 
had  written  the  play ;  this  could  be  concealed  from  him  the 
more  easily,  as  he  did  not  question  anybody  on  this  point. 
His  daughter  was  to  appear  in  the  play,  and  he  thought  that 
was  the  surprise  prepared  for  him. 

A  large  bill  at  the  door  informed  the  guests  that  "Les  Incon- 
venients  de  la  Vie  de  Paris  "  was  the  title  of  the  play. 

The  curtain  rose,  and  on  the  stage  appeared  a  mother,  who 
h.id  two  daughters.  One  of  them  had  grown  up  in  rural  retire- 
ment, while  the  other  had  enjoyed  all  the  advantages  of  a  city 
education. 

The  mother  prefers  the  latter;  she  praises  her  cultivated 
mind,  her  graceful  bearing,  her  social  talents,  and  neglects  and 
slights  the  former  on  all  occasions. 

Adversity  now  knocks  at  her  door.  In  consequence  of  a 
lawsuit  she  loses  her  whole  fortune ;  she  is  obliged  to  reduce 
her  expenses  very,  largely,  and  even  suffers  painful  privations. 
The  elegant  city  girl  is  unable  to  adapt  herself  to  these  circum- 
stances ;  she  complains  loudly  of  the  fickleness  of  fate,  and 
vents  her  spite  upon  her  mother. 

The  simple  country  girl ,  on  the  other  hand,  redoubles  her 
tenderness,  and  becomes  the  stay  and  comfort  of  her  whole 
family. 

The  scenes  of  this  little  drama  were  very  skillfully  connected ; 
the  characters  were  exceedingly  well  developed ;  and  the  inter- 
est was  kept  up  from  beginning  to  end.  Loud  applause  re- 
warded the  actors,  and  Marmontel  was  even  so  deeply  moved 


88  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

that  he  drew  his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket  in  order  to  dry 
his  tears.* 

Germaine  was  applauded  most  enthusiastically,  and,  at  the 
close  of  the  performance,  called  before  the  curtain.  When  she 
made  her  appearance,  flowers  and  wreaths  were  showered  upon 
her,  and  a  thousand  encomiums  bestowed  on  her.  Her  heart, 
however,  longed  only  for  her  father's  applause,  and  she  awaited, 
tremblingly,  the  first  word  which  he  would  utter. 

M.  Necker  now  beckoned  to  her  to  come  to  him,  and  folded 
her  to  his  heart.  "  She  has  performed  her  role  exceedingly 
well,"  he  said  to  Grimm. 

"  More  than  that,"  interposed  Raynal ;  "  she  has  not  only 
played,  but  also  written  exceedingly  well.  Neither  of  us,  my 
dear  Necker,  would  have  been  able  at  her  age  to  write  such  a 
drama." 

"  It  is  your  own  composition,  then  ?  "  asked  her  father,  in 
surprise. 

She  made  no  reply.  He  fixed  his  keen  eyes  searchingly  on 
her  face. 

"  Yes,  it  is  true,"  he  said,  coldly,  disengaging  himself  from  her 
arms ;  "my  only  child  is  an  authoress." 

At  these  words  Germaine  fainted  away. 

*  "  Correspondance  Litt6raire."    Vol.  iv.,  p.  290. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DR.     TRONCHIN. 

SEVERAL  months  had  elapsed  since  "  Les  Inconvenieuts  de  la 
Vie  de  Paris  "  had  been  performed  at  St.  Ouen.  A  severe  illness 
had  confined  Germaine  Necker  to  her  bed,  and  when  she  rose 
to-day  for  the  first  time,  she  had  grown  taller,  and  her  com- 
plexion had  almost  turned  pale.  A  smile  of  satisfaction  over- 
spread her  features  when  she  looked  at  her  face  in  the  mirror, 
and  discovered  that  she  was  no  longer  as  red  as  formerly. 
She  thought  she  looked  now  a  great  deal  more  like  her  mother 
than  before. 

She  leaned  back  in  the  cliaise  longue,  and  gazed  into  the  flick- 
ering flames  in  her  fire-place. 

At  this  moment  her  father  entered  the  room.  She  uttered  a 
feeble,  "  Ah  ! "  when  she  saw  him,  and,  quickly  raising  herself 
up,  she  intended  to  hasten  toward  him ;  but  he  signed  to  her  to 
keep  her  seat. 

"Do  not  stir,  my  child!"  he  said,  emphatically,  taking  a 
chair  in  order  to  seat  himself  by  her  side.  "  You  are  much 
better,  and  will  not  be  long  in  recovering  entirely ;  but  you 
must  still  be  very  cautious.  Beware  of  overtaxing  your 
strength.  At  your  age  you  have  still  a  long  future  before  you, 
and  will  soon  make  up  for  what  you  have  missed." 

"  Mother  thinks  I  must  not  be  too  indolent." 

"  Not  tod  indolent,  but  a  little  of  it  can  do  no  harm.  You 
are,  moreover,  my  only  child,  my  omy  joy,  my  whole  happi- 


90  MADAME   DK   STAEL. 

ness.  Why  should  you  exert  your  strength  if  you  feel  no  in- 
clination to  do  so ;  and  such  must  be  the  case  now  when  you 
are  still  so  very  feeble." 

''  I  am  not  desirous  of  distinguishing  myself,  since  I  know 
that  you  disapprove  it,"  she  said,  her  quivering  lips  betraying 
her  profound  emotion. 

"  We  should  not  speak  bf  it  now,"  said  her  father,  in  a 
grave,  but  gentle  tone,  seizing  her  right  hand.  "  But  I  shall 
soothe  you,  perhaps,  more  effectually  by  coming  to  an  under- 
standing with  you  on  this  point,  than  by  allowing  you  to 
brood  over  it.  It  grieved  you  to  hear  me  disapprove  the  road  to 
fame  which  you  have  entered  already  at  so  early  an  age.  Ah, 
my  child,  the  path  which  you  desire  to  pursue  is  a  very  thorny 
one,  for  it  exposes  you  defenselessly  to  the  shafts  of  obloquy 
and  slander.  Publicity  is  to  a  man  a  stimulus  rousing  dor- 
mant powers;  but  on  a  woman  it  inflicts  wounds  which  often- 
times never  heal  again.  A  man  may  bid  defiance  to  the 
world  ;  a  woman  must  listen  to  her  soft  admonitions,  and  pro- 
ceed very  cautiously.  Now,  as  there  is  nothing  to  me  dearer 
on  earth  than  the  happiness  and  tranquility  of  my  child,  it 
wrung  my  heart  to  find  her  so  unexpectedly  in  a  path  where  I 
should  have  preferred  not  to  see  her  at  all.  But  since  you 
have  entered  it,  it  does  not  matter.  If  you  feel  inclined  to  com- 
mit your  thoughts  and  feelings  to  paper,  and  have  them  exam- 
ined and  criticized  by  others,  do  so.  I  shall  not  hinder  and 
disturb  you ;  for  all  I  care  for,  is  to  make  you  happy.  Only  re- 
main truthful  and  good,  my  dear  daughter,  and  you  will  always 
please  me."  * 

"  My  dear,  dear  father ! "  whispered  Germaine,  deeply  moved, 
pressing  his  hand  to  her  lips.  "  How  shall  I  render  myself 
worthy  of  your  love  ?  " 

*  "  Madame  Necker  de  Saussure."    P.  22. 


DR.    TKONCHIN-.  91 

"  By  being  happy,  my  child.  Let  me  read  in  your  eyes  that 
the  life  which  I  have  given  to  you  is  a  boon  to  you ;  let  me  feel 
that  you  repose  the  most  implicit  confidence  in  me,  and  that 
you  feel  convinced  that  your  joy  is  my  joy,  that  your  grief 
finds  an  echo  in  my  breast,  and  that  I  am  your  first  and  best 
friend.  Will  you  do  so,  Germaine,  and  can  you  do  so  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  not,"  she  exclaimed,  rapturously,  "my  own, 
my  dearest  father ! " 

Her  father  averted  his  face  in  order  to  conceal  from  her  the 
tears  which  filled  his  eyes,  and  left  the  room. 

Germaine  remained  in  profound  emotion.  She  pressed  her 
hand  firmly  to  her  impetuously  throbbing  breast,  and  looked 
about  as  if  intoxicated  with  rapture.  So  happy,  so  blissful,  she 
had  never  felt  before ;  so  sweet  and  enchanting  had  life  never 
seemed  to  her. 

Finally,  she  folded  her  hands  on  her  breast,  and  mattered  a 
prayer,  in  which  she  thanked  God  for  the  happiness  which  he 
had  vouchsafed  to  her.  Her  father  loved  her,  he  loved  her  bet- 
ter than  anything  else  on  earth ;  oh,  it  was  almost  too  much 
happiness ! 

Exhausted  as  she  was,  her  eyes  closed,  and  she  fell  into  a 
gentle  slumber.  A  blissful  smile  played  round  her  lips,  and 
dreams  hovered  around  her,  such  as  she  had  never  dreamed 
before.  Her  lips  moved,  she  called  in  her  sleep  for  her  father, 
and  when  she  awoke,  she  prayed,  "  Forgive  me,  my  God,  if  I 
should  love  him  better  than  Thee ! " 

Dr.  Tronchin  found  her  pulse  next  morning  somewhat  ir- 
regular, and  whole  condition  slightly  worse ;  but  she  assured 
him  she  never  felt  better.  But  he  refused  to  believe  it,  and  said 
that  only  the  utmost  mental  tranquility  would  lead  to  her  re- 
covery, while  any  strong  excitement  might  even  endanger  her 
life. 


92  MADAME   DE    STAKL. 

Madame  Necker  knit  her  brow  as  she  heard  this.  ' '  My 
daughter  cannot  lead  the  life  of  a  prisoner  at  her  father's  house," 
she  said;  "nor  can  her  mind  rest  here  entirely.  She  would, 
moreover,  be  unable  to  bear  the  tedium  of  such  an  idleness." 

"  And  yet  she  must  bear  it,"  replied  Dr.  Tronchin,  sternly  ; 
"  for  it  is  the  only  medicine  which  I  can  prescribe  to  her,  and 
we  do  not  care  if  the  patient  relishes  the  medicine,  if  only  it  is 
efficacious.  Mademoiselle  Necker  must  live  in  the  country,  and 
pass  the  whole  day  in  the  open  air,  if  possible  in  the  midst  of 
cows  and  sheep.  Pen  and  ink  she  will  leave  at  home,  and 
books  too.  Man  is  created  to  live  with  nature,  and  not  with 
paper." 

"  I  see  you  have  read  Rousseau's  '  Emile,' "  said  Madame 
Necker,  somewhat  sarcastically. 

"  As  may  be  expected  of  every  cultivated  man,"  replied  Dr. 
Tronchin,  calmly.  "But  I  did  more  than  that:  I  allowed  the 
work  to  convince  me." 

"  Many  things  look  well  in  theory,  but  turn  out  to  be  worth- 
less in  practice,"  replied  Madame  Necker,  bitterly ;  perhaps  for 
the  first  time  she  was  unable  to  master  the  irritation  which  the 
doctor's  words  had  caused  her.  "  Our  sex  dislikes  man  in  his 
original  state ;  it  is  not  until  he  has  cultivated  his  mind  that  we 
appreciate  him  as  a  companion.  Hence,  the  higher  the  aims 
which  a  woman  strives  to  reach,  the  more  it  is  necessary  for  a 
man  to  elevate  his  moral  and  intellectual  ideal.  I  had  conceiv- 
ed grand,  far-reaching  plans  in  regard  to  my  daughter ;  your 
fiat  has  thwarted  all  of  them,  and  restored  my  child  to  medi- 
ocrity. If  she  must  pease  adding  to  her  knowledge,  she  must 
likewise  renounce  all  prospects  of  fame  and  distinction.  All 
the  time  and  pains  which  I  bestowed  upon  her  education  have 
been  wasted." 

"  But,  Madame,  said  Dr.  Tronchin,  smiling,  "  you  may  be  sure 


DR.    TRONCHIN.  93 

that  your  daughter  will  turn  to  account  the  talents  with  which 
nature  has  endowed  her,  and  that  my  cure  will  not  impair 
them.  Her  mind  will  grow  healthier  and  stronger  with  her 
body." 

"  That  is  rank  materialism,"  exclaimed  Madame  Necker,  in 
dismay.  "  Such  principles  will  certainly  ruin  France.  If  you 
make  man  a  mere  living  machine,  without  rendering  the  mind, 
which  is  to  ripen  for  eternity,  independent  of  the  body,  he  will 
become  the  sport  of  his  passions ;  for  what  would  govern  him  ? 
I  shudder  at  the  thought  of  the  abyss  on  the  brink  of  which 
we  are  standing.  First  comes  Gall  with  his  phrenology,  as  if 
the  soul  were  something  palpable ;  he  is  preceded  by  Mesnier, 
who  idolizes  the  nervous  system ;  and  the  kind-hearted  Lavater 
finally  discerns  our  whole  character  from  the  features  of  our 
face.  It  is  always  the  body  and  nothing  but  the  body  in  which 
our  Savants  try  to  find  the  key  to  the  soul,  instead  of  listening 
to  the  Bible,  which  says,  that  the  flesh  is  the  seat  of  all  sins. 
How  far  we  are  still  from  the  light  of  truth  if  we  continue  in 
this  path." 

"  It  remains  to  be  seen  if  it  is  the  wrong  one,"  replied  Tron- 
chin,  smiling.  "  Enthusiasm  for  an  ideal  world  is  more  suitable 
to  the  minds  of  beautiful  ladies  than  positive  intercourse  with 
reality.  Psychology,  and  not  physiology,  is  their  science ;  for 
they  would  hardly  be  able  to  make  a  thorough  diagnosis. 
Love  is  then*  theme,  and  ours — necessity." 

"  All  physicians  do  not  occupy  your  stand-point." 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  Dr.  Tionchin,  smiling.  "  Since  Moliere 
betrayed  so  many  of  our  secrets,  we  have  had  to  resort  to  va- 
rious methods ;  the  faith  of  the  public  in  our  old  system  was 
shaken  more  and  more,  and  so  we  had  to  try  to  prop  it  here 
and  there.  Thank  God,  such  props  are  not  wanting  to  us, 
and  their  number  is  daily  on  the  increase.  Men  want  to  be  de- 


94  MADAME    DE   STAEL. 

ceived ;  they  want  to  be  cured  by  a  method  which  they  do  not 
understand,  and  use  remedies  of  whose  properties  they  are  en- 
tirely ignorant.  One  of  these  methods  is  magnetism,  of  which 
delicate  ladies  are  so  fond  because  it  is  such  a  very  nice  titil- 
lation  of  the  senses." 

"  You  forget  that  you  are  speaking  to  a  lady,"  said  Madame 
Necker,  gravely. 

"But  to  a  lady  who  stands  far  above  her  sex.  '  La  femme  a 
Thomas '  *  cannot  be  an  ordinary  woman.  You  have  no  time  to 
brood  over  little  ailments  ;  the  management  of  a  large  fortune, 
the  education  of  your  daughter,  the  establishment  of  a  hos- 
pital, the  exigencies  of  social  life — all  these  occupy  you  so  much 
that  you  never  afford  me  the  pleasure  of  treating  you  unless 
exhaustion  overpowers  you,  and  compels  me  to  exclaim, '  stop !' 
So  you  cannot  take  umbrage  at  my  censuring  your  sex  for  not 
thinking  and  acting  like  you." 

This  handsome  compliment  did  not  fail  to  make  an  agreeable 
impression  on  Madame  Necker,  who  replied  hi  a  kinder  tone : 

"If  women  in  general  are  not  what  they  should  be,  it  is 
owing  to  their  education,  doctor.  For  what  I  am,  I  am  solely 
indebted  to  my  father's  solicitude." 

"  You  insist  on  being  a  production  of  art,  and  on  making  a 
Pygmalion  of  every  schoolmaster,"  said  Dr.  Tronchin,  smiling, 
and  taking  his  hat. 

Mother  and  daughter  sat  a  while  in  silence  opposite  to  one 
another,  when  they  were  alone. 

"  You  seem  to  be  vexed,"  began  Germaine,  finally.     "  I  hope 
it  is  not  in  consequence  of  anything  that  I  have  done  ?  " 
,     Madame  Necker  did  not  reply  immediately.     She  seemed  to 
be  at  a  loss  for  an  answer.    Finally,  she  said,  coldly : 

*  When  Thomas  had  written  his  "History  of  Woman,'"  Madame  Necker 
was  greeted  at  the  Italian  Opera  with  the  words  "Voila  la  fenune  u 
Thomas  I" 


DR.  TRONCHIN:  95 

"  I  have  noticed  that  you  hesitate  in  your  conversation  with 
your  father,  whenever  I  enter  the  room.  Have  you  something 
to  communicate  to  him  that  you  wish  to  conceal  from  me  ?  " 

"  Oh !  no,"  replied  Germaine,  blushing. 

"  Why,  then,  are  you  silent  in  my  presence,  or  rather,  why  do 
you  break  off  a  conversation  which  seems  to  afford  you  pleas- 
ure, and  begin  to  speak  of  other  things  as  soon  as  I  join  you  ?  " 

"  Because — "  replied  Germaine,  hesitatingly,  "  Because — you 
are  more  rigorous  than  father,  and  do  not  relish  the  thousand 
little  witticisms  by  which  I  try  to  amuse  him.  I  am  always  so 
glad  to  see  him  laugh ;  for  after  the  severe  labors  which  his 
official  duties  impose  upon  him,  it  is  a  real  blessing  to  him. 
At  all  events,  he  tells  me  so.  I  do  not  like  to  jest  in  your 
presence,  because  you  have  always  been  averse  to  it,  and  often 
called  it  an  intellectual  vagabond  life.  Now,  inasmuch  as  I  do 
in  the  presence  of  my  dear  father  things  which  are  not  in  con- 
sonance with  your  wishes,  but  please  him,  I  am  silent  as  soon 
as  you  join  us,  in  order  not  to  grieve  you." 

"  So  your  father  likes  your  jests  and  witticisms,"  said  Mad- 
ame Necker,  slowly ;  and  for  the  first  time  her  pure  and  noble 
heart  was  filled  with  a  feeling  of  bitterness,  which  was  the 
more  painful  as  it  concerned  her  own  husband,  her  own  daugh- 
ter— two  beings  to  whom  she  was  devoted  with  all  her  heart. 

She  left  Germaine,  locked  herself  in  her  room,  and — wept. 
Since  she  had  given  her  hand  to  Necker,  these  were  her  first 
tears.  She  was  fearful  she  might  henceforth  no  longer  occupy 
the  first  place  in  her  husband's  heart ;  and  how  was  she  to 
retain  this  place  when  she  saw  that  her  daughter,  by  means 
entirely  different  from  those  which  she  had  employed,  succeeded 
in  amusing  and  pleasing  him  ?  To  meet  her  on  the  same 
ground,  and  dispute  the  victory  with  her  there,  was  entirely 
out  of  the  question. 


9G  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

She  had  hoped  that  her  husband  would  love  her  In  her 
daughter,*  and  she  had,  therefore,  taken  so  many  pains  to  give 
her  an  excellent  education,  in  order  to  see  herself  rejuvenated 
in  her.  And  now  this  bitter  disappointment ! 

"  She  must  leave  Paris,"  she  said,  after  reflecting  along  time. 
"  Let  her  go  to  St.  Ouen,  as  Dr.  Tronchin  advises ;  but  I  shall 
stay  here  with  m^r  husband  and  try  to  regain  his  affections. 
He  is  mine,  and  shall  remain  mine.  Germaine  has  yet  all  her 
life  before  her,  and  all  paths  are  open  to  her ;  but  I  have  noth- 
ing to  expect  and  nothing  to  lose  in  this  world,  save  his  love. 
It  is  my  most  precious  treasure,  and  I  shall  risk  everything  in 
order  to  keep  it." 

*  "  Madame  Necker  de  Saussure."    P.  23. 


THE   VILLA  AT    ST,   OUEN. 

THE  vernal  sun  shed  its  bright  rays  on  the  earth  and  greeted 
the  sprouting  corn. 

Germaine  Necker  was  walking,  with  a  quick  step,  through 
the  alleys  of  the  garden,  holding  in  her  hand  a  book  bound  in 
blue  cloth.  The  noonday  rays  fell  vertically  upon  her  bare 
head  without  her  feeling  their  intense  heat  She  seemed  so 
thoroughly  absorbed  in  what  she  was  reading,  that  she  was 
perfectly  inaccessible  to  all  outward  influences.  Her  beautiful 
hands  and  arms,  which  her  mother  had  always  covered  so 
carefully  that  her  daughter  might  retain  this  charm,  were  ex- 
posed to  the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun.  She  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  herself  entirely. 

Her  sojourn  in  the  country  had  greatly  strengthened  her 
health.  She  was  unusually  tall  for  a  girl  who  had  just  reached 
her  sixteenth  year,  and  her  strong  aud  well-developed  limbs 
caused  her  to  look  at  a  distance  much  older  than  she  really  was. 
Her  firm  step,  her  deep  voice,  the  steady  glance  of  her  eyes, 
which  girlish  bashfulness  did  not  cause  her  to  drop,  deprived 
her  of  the  sweet  charms  of  her  age  -  but  her  wonderful  talents 
made  up  for  what  was  wanting  to  her  in  this  respect  Her 
black  hair  hung  loosely  on  her  shoulders,  while  she  lifted 
her  large  dark  eyes  eloquently  toward  Heaven,  and  burst  into 
loud  exclamations  of  delight 

*'  Yes,  I  am  happy  beyond  measure,"  she  said,  "  to  have  such 
5 


MADAME    I)E    STAKL. 

a  father!  In  examining  the  annuls  of  all  periods  of  history,  I 
cannot  find  a  name  which  I  should  like  to  compare  with  his. 

"This  great  report  is  not  a  book,  it  is  a  deed.  In  giving 
the  people  an  insight  into  the  financial  condition  of  poor  France, 
he  tells  it  that  it  is  of  age. 

"Let  Count  d'Artois  whisper  to  his  friends  that  this  conta 
bleu  is  an  absurdity  which  the  citizen  of  Geneva  has  permitted 
himself  in  his  impudence;  let  him  and  his  boon  companions 
oleride  it  as  much  as  they  please;  they  are  unable  to  lessen  the 
importance  of  the  great  achievement. 

"This  book  utters  the  weighty  words:  'Lepeuple  est  souve- 
rain! '  The  people  will  insist  on  its  rights,  and  .demand  a  reas- 
onable degree  of  liberty.  My  father's  Compte  Rendu  will  give 
rise  to  a  revolution  in  France.* 

"  How  fortunate  that  I  live  at  this  momentous  time !  The 
eyes  of  all  France  will  be  fixed  on  my  father ;  and  I  am  his 
daughter,  and  may  bask  in  his  glory. 

"  How  I  long  to  express  the  admiration  with  which  his  great 
deed  fills  me  !  But  he  is  far  away,  and  when  I  see  him  I  shall 
not  be  courageous  enough  to  give  vent  to  the  feelings  of  my 
heart.  I  write  to  him,  but  only  anonymously.  He  must  learn 
what  I  feel,  even  without  knowing  that  these  are  my  feelings. 

"  The  old  gardener  and  his  son  are  working  yonder  at  the 
asparagus  beds  as  quietly  as  if  nothing  had  happened ;  and  yet 
this  book  makes  men  of  them.  Shall  I  inform  them  that  they 
are  no  longer  the  slaves  of  a  despot,  but  citizens  of  a  State  in 
whose  burdens  they  participate,  and  to  whose  government  they 
should  pay  due  attention?" 

She  hastened  off  in  the  direction  where  the  two  men  were  at 
work.  At  the  approach  of  their  young  mistress,  they  took  off 
their  caps  respectfully.  All  the  servants  and  peasants  loved 
*  D'Alembert. 


THE    VILLA    AT   ST.    OUEX.  99 

her;  for  she  was  very  charitable.  The  poor  and  suffering  al- 
ways found  her  willing  to  listen  to  their  complaints,  and  her 
sympathy  did  them  often  as  much  good  as  her  money.  All  of 
them  knew  that  she  had  a  very  kind  and  generous  heart,  and 
all  liked  to  confide  their  cares  and  sorrows  to  her,  because  she 
always  listened  to  them  with  that  solicitude  and  attention 
which,  for  the  moment,  seemed  to  make  the  sufferer's  condition 
her  own. 

Hence,  all  her  wishes  were  executed  by  these  people  with 
utmost  readiness,  and  the  gardeners  now  ceased  working  in 
order  to  listen  to  her  attentively. 

"  I  just  wished  to  tell  you,"  she  began,"  that  anew  era  dawns 
upon  France.  My  father  has  written  this  book,  in  which  he 
sets  forth  the  revenues  and  expenditures  of  the  State.  All  of 
you  may  read  it,  and  see  whether  or  not  the  King  judiciously 
spends  the  money  which  you  intrust  to  him.  All  of  you  will 
henceforth  participate  in  the  government ;  you  are  now  citizens 
of  a  powerful  State ;  the  rights  of  man  are  recognized  in  France, 
and  the  voice  of  the  people  will  be  heard.  Are  you  not  glad 
of  it?" 

"  If  you,  Mademoiselle,  say  that  we  may  be  glad,  we  are 
glad.  M.  Necker  is  the  benefactor  of  us  all,"  replied  the  old 
man.  "  But  for  him,  France  would  be  lost.  But  I  cannot  read 
the  book,  inasmuch  as  I  have  never  learned  to  read.  But  my 
son  there,  he  can  read." 

The  young  man  had  listened  to  her  words  attentively,  and, 
to  all  appearance,  more  intelligently  than  his  father.  His  eyes 
sparkled,  and  the  expression  of  his  face  showed  plainly  that  he 
would  like  to  do  something  else  than  digging  in  the  garden. 

"  I  read  the  newspapers,"  he  said,  "  and  have  already  heard 
something  about  it  at  the  village  inn.  To  be  sure,  if  our  insti- 
tutions could  be  made  similar  to  those  of  North  America,  I 


100  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

should  be  exceedingly  glad ;  but  for  my  old  father  here,  I  should 
haA-e  long  since  gone  to  America  and  helped  the  people  there 
to  fight  the  soldiers  of  the  King  of  England.  The  people  there 
lead  a  very  different  kind  of  life.  They  have  their  daily  bread, 
and  pay  few  or  no  taxes.  They  know  what  they  are  working 
for." 

"  Our  institutions  will  never  become  as  democratic  as  those 
of  North  America,"  replied  M'lle  Necker,  surprised  at  a  de- 
mand which  far  exceeded  her  wishes ;  "  we  must  keep  onr 
good  King.  But  we  may  lessen  the  expenditures  of  the  State, 
and  thereby  relieve  the  burdens  of  the  people.  You  see,  that 
is  the  object  which  my  father  is  trying  to  attain." 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  the  young  man,  "  we  talked  of  it  last 
night  at  the  village  inn." 

M'lle  T^ecker  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  hear  what  these 
people  said  about  her  father  when  they  sat  together  in  the  eve- 
ning. She  had  his  glory  so  much  at  heart  that  she  wished  to 
follow  it  everywhere. 

At  this  moment  her  companion,  M'lle  Huber,  joined  her,  and 
requested  her  to  go  into  the  house,  where  luncheon  was  ready. 

"  I  cannot  eat,"  exclaimed  M'lle  Necker,  shaking  her  head. 
"  I  am  as  if  intoxicated  with  happiness,  and  looking  for  men 
who  will  share  it  with  me,  and  to  whom  I  may  express  what  I 
feel." 

"You  may  talk  to  me  during  luncheon  as  much  as  you 
please,"  said  her  young  friend,  trying  to  draw  her  away. 

"  And  preach  to  deaf  ears.  Have  you  not  told  me  time  and 
again  that  household  affairs  and  a  new  bonnet  interest  you  a 
great  deal  more  than  all  the  teachings  of  Montesquieu  ?  " 

"  Of  course  they  do.  But  for  your  sake  I  shall  listen  to  you, 
and  try  to  understand  what  you  say.  But  tell  me  now  what 
important  event  has  happened." 


THE   VILLA   AT   ST.    OUEN.  101 

"  I  referred  to  this  book.  Look  at  the  old  oak  yonder.  It 
took  it  a  thousand  years  to  grow  to  its  present  size,  and  no 
one  tells  us  now  what  hand  put  into  the  earth  the  acorn  from 
which  sprang  that  mighty  tree.  The  beginning  was  so  small, 
and  the  end  is  so  vast.  Such  will  be  the  case  with  this  Compte 
fl&ndit,  too.  The  consequences  of  this  first  step  are  incalcula- 
ble; no  one  is  able  to  say  whither  will  lead  the  path  which 
this  book  indicates  to  us.  A  new  era  is  dawning  upon  us  in 
consequence;  the  seeds  have  been  sown,  and  we  see  them 
sprouting ;  but  we  are  as  yet  unable  to  divine  who  will  be  the 
reapers.  Oh,  I  admire  my  father  so  much !  He  is  a  great, 
great  man." 

"  You  attach  so  much  importance  to  this  book  containing  so 
many  figures ! "  exclaimed  her  friend,  doubtingly.  "  I  am  afraid 
your  filial  love  sees  a  little  more  in  that  book  than  there  is  re- 
ally in  it.  But  come  into  the  house  now." 

"  I  will  follow  you  if  you  will  promise  me  to  lend  me  your 
pen  for  half  an  hour.  I  have  to  write  an  anonymous  letter." 

"I  shall  not  render  you  any  assistance  for  that  purpose. 
Madame  Necker  would  never  forgive  me  if  she  should  find  it 
out,"  said  M'lle  Huber. 

"  Never  fear,"  exclaimed  Germaine,  laughing.  "  It  is  no  love- 
letter;  I  only  want  to  write  to  my  father,  and  he  must  not 
know  the  hand- writing." 

"  But  do  you  think,  then,  that  he  does  not  know  my  hand- 
writing?" 

"  In  truth,  I  did  not  think  of  that.  Very  well,  let  us  go  then 
to  our  pastor;  he  shall  copy  the  letter." 

M'lle  Huber  was  already  accustomed  to  the'singular  whims 
of  her  friend,  and  whenever  they  did  not  conflict  with  the  in- 
structions given  her  by  Madame  Necker,  she  yielded  co  them 
willingly.  So  the  young  girls  went  in  the  course  of  the  after- 


102  MAPAME    PK    STAEL. 

noon  to  the  village,  in  order  to  call  on  the  clergyman  who  was 
to  copy  the  enthusiastic  letter  of  Necker's  daughter.  They 
found  the  aged  man  in  his  room,  and  sat  down  opposite  to  him 
while  he  entered  upon  the  task  which  was  not  quite  easy  for 
lam. 

"  I  know  of  somebody  that  would  do  it  still  better  than  I," 
he  said,  putting  his  spectacles  on  his  nose.  "  He  is  the  sou  of 
the  forester  who  lives  at  the  end  of  the  large  meadow.  He 
writes  a  splendid  hand." 

"Let  us  go  to  him,  then,"  exclaimed  M'lle  Necker,  jumping 
up  in  order  to  carry  her  intention  into  effect 

"  I  do  not  think  that  it  would  be  becoming  for  us  to  do  so," 
said  M'lle  Huber,  disapprovingly. 

"  Your  constant  stickling  for  such  trifling  matters  of  eti- 
quette," said  Geruiaine,  stamping  the  floor  indignantly,  "  an- 
noys me  greatly.  It  is  just  because  I  was  brought  up  amidst 
such  narrow-minded  views  that  my  whole  nature  now  revolts 
against  them,  and  I  shall  follow  my  premier  mouvement  at  any 
cost.  My  first  impulse  comes  from  God,  it  can  never  mislead 
mo ;  our  after-thoughts  arise  from  human  teachings,  and  are, 
therefore,  in  consonance  with  the  usages  of  society,  and  they 
are  not  our  highest  moral  law.  I  shall  go." 

"I  shall  accompany  you,  my  daughter,"  said  the  pastor. 
"  M'lle  Huber  will  then  consider  less  objectionable  a  step  which 
I  have  suggested  to  you." 

They  found  the  young  forester  reposing  from  an  excursion 
into  the  forest,  whence  he  had  just  returned.  Upon  hearing 
what  distinguished  visitors  wished  to  see  him,  he  quickly  ar- 
ranged his  dresiand  appeared  before  his  guests.  M'lle  Necker 
was  evidently  surprised  at  his  fine-looking  figure  and  prepos- 
sessing manners,  which  rendered  him  more  similar  to  a  courtier 
than  to  a  man  in  .his  humble  circumstances.  Never  couceulin<r 


THE    VILLA   AT   ST.    OUEtf.  103 

her  emotions,  she  quickly  betrayed  the  impression  which  he 
had  made  on  her. 

The  pastor  meanwhile  addressed  him,  and  explained  to  him 
the  cause  of  their  visit 

"  Your  request  makes  me  very  happy,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
should  comply  with  it  with  still  greater  pleasure  if  you  would 
permit  me  to  deliver  the  letter  to  M.  Necker  in  person.  I  ad- 
mire your  eminent  father  so  ardently  that  I  should  be  proud  to 
make  his  acquaintance." 

"  But  he  must  not  find  out  who  addressed  that  letter  to  him," 
exclaimed  Germaine,  warmly. 

"  Of  course  not  I  shall  tell  him  that  a  stranger  gave  it  to 
me.  Is  that  hi  consonance  with  your  wishes  ?  " 

"  It  is,  it  is.  But  tell  me  now  if,  during  your  sojourn  in 
Paris,  you  cannot  find  out  what  people  think  of  my  father 
there,  how  his  Compte  Rendu  was  received,  and  if  the  Parisians 
are  able  to  appreciate  how  bold  he  was  in  laying  it  before  the 
government,  and  in  calling  upon  all  France,  nay,  upon  the 
whole  world,  to  witness  his  honesty." 

"  If  you  wish  it,  I  shall  visit  the  most  popular  coffee-houses 
and  listen  to  the  conversation  of  the  guests,"  replied  the  young 
man.  "  If  you  have  any  further  commissions  to  give  me,  I  am 
at  your  service." 

"  When  will  you  have  copied  the  letter  ?  And  when  may  I 
look  for  your  return  from  Paris  ?  "  exclaimed  Germaine. 

"  You  must  not  allow  me  for  this  purpose  a  too  limited  time, 
Mademoiselle,  inasmuch  as  I  do  not  know  when  M.  Necker 
will  admit  me.  But  you  may  depend  on  it,  I  shall  make  as 
much  haste  as  possible  in  order  to  fulfill  your  wishes,"  he  said, 
casting  an  enthusiastic  glance  at  Necker's  daughter. 

"  Then  we  may  go,"  said  the  pastor. 

On  their  way  home  he  said  to  them,  "  Mademoiselle  Iluber, 


104  MADAME    1>E    STAEL. 

all  that  lias  occurred  on  this  occasion  was  in  strict  accordance 
with  propriety,  was  it  not?" 

"Because  you  were  present,"  replied  M'lle  Hnber.  "But 
the  young  forester  intends  to  call  on  us  at  St.  Ouen." 

"  His  visit  will  probably  do  us  no  harm,"  said  Germaine, 
sarcastically. 

The  girls  now  walked  slowly  in  the  cool  evening  air  along 
the  path  which  never  was  entirely  deserted ;  when  they  soon 
after  entered  the  high-road,  they  met  a  poor  woman  who  car- 
ried her  babe  and  a  heavy  bundle  of  faggots. 

"How  can  you  carry  such  a  heavy  load?"  said  M'lle 
Necker  to  her.  "  You  should  have  left  your  babe  at  home." 

"  It  would  have  cried  itself  to  death,"  replied  the  woman. 
"  We  poor  folks,  Mademoiselle,  are  happiest  in  this  world  if 
we  are  alone ;  for  we  cannot  pay  sufficient  attention  to  them 
without  running  the  risk  of  starving  to  death." 

"But  then  such  a  baby  is  a  great  joy,  and  you  know  whom 
you  are  toiling  for.  Let  me  carry  your  little  daughter  for  a 
moment ;  it  will  relieve  your  burden." 

"  A  lady  like  you  cannot  do  that,"  cried  the  woman,  in  dis- 
may, and  evidently  fearful  lest  Germaine  should  let  the  child  fall 
to  the  ground. 

But  Germaine,  laughing,  held  it  up  in  her  strong  arms,  and 
showed  how  easy  it  was  for  her  to  carry  the  little  one. 

"What  if  anybody  should  meet  us  here  and  see  you  with 
the  dirty  child,"  said  M'lle  Huber,  glancing  along  the  road. 

"In  that  event  I  should  throw  the  little  creature  into  the 
ditch  and  jump  after  it,  in  order  to  hide  my  disgrace,"  cried 
Germaine,  laughing.  "  It  is  a  vain  endeavor,"  she  then  added, 
"  to  attempt  surrounding  my  heart  with  a  coat  of  mail.  It  in- 
sists on  throbbing,  and  it  shall  throb.  Falsehood,  deception, 
and  a  thousand  vices  endangering  our  character,  are  suffered 


THE    VILLA    AT    ST.    GUEST.  105 

• 

to  exist  without  let  or  hinderance;  but  when  we  yield  to 
the  impulses  of  our  heart,  when  we  feel  genuine  sympathy,  and, 
giving  vent  to  it,  say  to  anybody,  '  I  like  you,'  then  an  outcry 
is  raised  as  if  we  had  committed  a  crime.  Is  not  that  too 
stupid  and  silly  ?" 

"  As  you  represent  it,  it  is  indeed." 

"  As  if  I  represented  it  otherwise  than  it  really  is  !  Do  you 
think  I  did  not  notice  the  expression  of  your  countenance 
when  you  thought  that  I  conversed  with  the  forester  as  if  he 
were  my  equal?  As  Necker's  daughter,  you  wanted  me  to 
treat  him  haughtily,  and  look  upon  him  as  an  obsequious  foot- 
man, whom  we  reward  very  liberally  with  a  gracious  smile 
and  a  gold  piece.  That  was  what  your  code  of  propriety  told 
you.  Mine  told  me  a  very  different  thing.  A  man  whose 
forehead  nature  has  stamped  with  nobility,  is  my  equal.  I  am 
a  pupil  of  Rousseau.  I  did  not  vainly  visit  that  proud  man  in 
his  humble  garret,  where  he  lived  as  independently  as  a  sov- 
ereign prince.  I  did  not  vainly  read  his  'Contrat  Social,' 
while  other  girls  played  with  their  dolls.  Inasmuch  as  I  did 
not  grow  up  and  was  not  educated  like  other  girls,  I  cannot 
now  be  like  other  girls.  My  good  woman,  did  you  nurse  your 
babe  at  your  own  breast  ?  "  she  asked  now,  the  remembrance 
of  Rousseau  having  suggested  this  idea  to  her. 

"  I  did,  Mademoiselle ;  where  else  should  I  have  obtained 
the  milk?  I  shall  continue  nursing  it  in  the  same  manner 
until  it  is  over  a  year  old." 

"  A  very  sad  reason,  indeed ;  but  still  you  suckle  the  babe," 
said  Germaine. 

At  this  moment  a  heavy  hand  was  laid  on  her  shoulder. 
She  turned  and  saw  that  Marmontel  stood  behind  her. 

"  For  God's  sake  where  do  you  come  from  ?  "  exclaimed 
M'lle  Necker.  "  You  seem  to  have  sprung  from  the  earth." 


106  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

• 

"  I  tried  to  rent  a  villa  for  my  family  at  St.  Brisc,  found  a 
very  good  one,  and,  inasmuch  as  there  was  no  opportunity  for 
me  to  return  to  Paris,  I  walked  over  to  St.  Ouen,  in  order  to 
throw  myself  on  your  hospitality  until  to-morrow  morning." 

"  We  shall  try  to  entertain  you  as  hospitably  as  possible," 
exclaimed  Germaine,  joyfully ;  "  but,  in  return,  you  must  tell 
me  as  much  as  you  can  about  Paris." 

"  As  soon  as  you  have  satisfied  my  curiosity  in  regard  to 
this  child,"  he  replied,  smiling,  and  looking  at  the  dirty  little 
creature,  which  she  held  up  with  tender  solicitude. 

"  Well,  I  found  it  here  on  the  road,  where  I  met  that  poor 
woman,  who  groaned  under  a  two-fold  burden." 

"  That  does  honor  to  your  heart,  Germaine,"  he  said,  kindly. 
"  But  here  is  the  gate  of  your  garden.  What  are  you  going  to 
do  with  the  child  ?  " 

She  hesitated.  She  would  have  liked  to  accompany  the 
poor  woman  to  her  home ;  but  Marmoutel  was  tired,  and  she 
could  not  ask  this  sacrifice  of  him. 

"  Wait  a  moment  here,  my  good  woman,"  she  said  ;  "  I  shall 
immediately  send  a  servant,  who  will  carry  your  child  home. 
I  myself,  unfortunately,  cannot  accompany  you  any  longer." 

So  saying,  she  gave  her  the  babe,  and  furtively  slipped  a 
piece  of  money  into  her  hand. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  able  to  carry  the  child  home.  I  thank  you  a 
thousand  times.  God  bless  you ! "  said  the  woman,  walking 
away  with  a  radiant  face. 

Marmontel  now  offered  his  arm  to  Germaine,  who  walked 
in  very  good  humor  by  his  side  through  the  shady  alleys  of 
the  garden. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,"  lie  asked.  "  Are  you  writing 
another  drama  ?  " 

"Oh!  no.     Dr.  Tronchiu  has   forbidden  it.     I  am  only  nl- 


THE   VILLA   AT   ST.    QUEST.  10  T 

lowed  to  read,  and,  moreover,  only  for  certain  hours.  But  now 
I  am  again  quite  well  and  strong,  and  I  hope  he  will  now  per- 
mit me  again  to  write.  I  have  extracted  a  great  many  passages 
from  jilontesquieu  ;  I  have  read  again  Voltaire's  '  Les  Nations/ 
and  my  dear  Rousseau's  '  Contrat  Social,'  and  filled  my  poor 
head  with  some  sensible  ideas  about  political  economy.  But 
ah,  my  dear  friend,  I  used  to  amuse  myself  so  exceedingly 
well  when  I  read  Ann  Radcliffe's  novels, '  The  Mysteries  of 
Udolpho,'  and  those  other  beautiful  books  which  caused  me  to 
shudder  so  pleasantly,  and,  after  nightfall,  to  look  in  dismay 
into  every  corner,  in  order  to  sec  if  there  might  not  be  a  ghost 
or  some  horrible  monster  threatening  me  with  its  fiery  eyes. 
I  am  quite  sony  every  now  and  then  that  I  can  no  longer 
indulge  in  such  agreeable  dreams.  Sir  Charles  Grandison  and 
Clarissa,  they  are  different  characters  ;  they  love  with  all  their 
hearts.  The  new  Heloise  belongs  to  this  class ;  but  for  these 
heroes  we  look  in  the  world,  and  not  in  twilight  hours,  as  if 
they  were  ghosts." 

"  You  will  not  be  long  in  discovering  those  heroes  there," 
replied  Marmontel,  laughing.  "  Suitors  will  not  be  wanting  to 
Necker's  daughter." 

"  Who  are  attracted  by  my  father's  fame  and  fortune,  but  not 
by  his  daughter  !  "  she  exclaimed,  vehemently.  "  But  I  want 
to  be  courted  for  my  own  sake :  I  want  to  be  loved,  and  shall 
give  my  whole  heart  in  return.  I  dislike  all  that  is  cold, 
studied,  and  nieasure.d.  Love  must  touch  me  like  an  electric 
spark,  and,  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  strike  me  and  the  man  who 
is  to  belong  to  me.  Do  you  not  think  so  too,  my  dear  Mar- 
montel?" 

'-  Our  imagination  sometimes  misleads  us  in  this  respect,  my 
dear  Germaine,  and  we  afterwards  find  that  reality  does  not 
correspond  to  our  expectations.  Human  life  is  full  of  illusions, 


108  MADAME    BE    STAEL. 

and  these  illusions  form  our  happiness.  For  when  they  cease, 
there  is  but  little  that  remains  to  us." 

They  now  entered  the  house.  Germaine  hastened  first  to 
the  porter,  in  order  to  whisper  to  him  that  as  soon  as  the  young 
forester  made  his  appearance,  no  matter  what  time  it  might  be, 
he  should  take  the  young  man  to  her  room,  and  inform  her  of 
his  arrival.  She  then  returned  to  Marmontel. 

"  You  have  spoken  with  me  on  all  sorts  of  topics,  and  not 
said  a  word  about  my  father's  great  achievement.  What  is  the 
reason  ?"  she  said  to  him. 

"  I  did  not  know  if  you  had  been  informed  of  the  appearance 
of  this  conte  bleu"  he  said,  jocularly ;  "  for  it  is  a  very  dangerous 
book,  whose  author,  if  he  had  lived  during  the  reign  of  Louis 
the  Thirteenth  or  Louis  the  Fourteenth,  would  no  doubt  have 
been  hung,  while  at  this  juncture  he  will  only  be  beheaded." 

"  You  are  jesting,"  said  Germaine,  turning  pale. 

"  I  am  jesting  to  a  certain  degree,"  replied  Marmontel.  "  To 
be  sure,  they  will  not  literally  cut  off  his  head,  but  only  figura- 
tively. The  court  party  will  overthrow  him." 

"  Should  it  really  be  able  to  do  so  ?  "  asked  Germaine,  anx- 
iously. 

"  It  is.    Your  father's  downfall  is  certain  to  take  place." 

This  reply  caused  her  to  look  with  increased  impatience  for 
the  return  of  her  messenger  from  the  capital,  who  did  not 
arrive  till  the  following  evening. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  COMMONER  IN  THE   CABINET. 

NECKER  sat  thoughtfully,  and  his  head  leaning  on  his  hand, 
at  his  writing-table,  and  forgot  that  hour  after  hour  elapsed. 
The  King  had  rejected  his  request  to  give  him,  beside  the 
office  of  a  cabinet  minister,  at  length  also  the  rank  due  to  his 
office ;  and  after  this  refusal,  nothing  remained  for  him  but  to 
offer  his  resignation. 

The  old  nobility  were  decidedly  averse  to  tolerating  the  Gen- 
evan commoner  in  the  cabinet.  These  aristocrats  did  not  ob- 
ject to  the  fearful  abuses  and  frauds  by  which  the  treasury 
was  constantly  plundered ;  but  they  felt  highly  offended  at 
the  sudden  elevation  of  a  man  who  accepted  no  salary,  had  no 
favorites,  was  proof  against  bribery,  who  was  the  embodiment 
of  honesty,  and  whose  only  fault  was  that  he  did  not  bear  a 
name  illustrious  in  the  history  of  France. 

Necker  deeply  felt  the  cruel  injustice  of  this  treatment  and 
the  marked  ingratitude  of  the  King.  He  had  at  court  enemies 
who  disliked  his  economy  intensely ;  Marie  Antoinette  was 
opposed  to  the  minister  who  always  spoke  of  retrenchments  ; 
and  the  Count  d'Artois  hated  him,  since  he  had  refused  to  pay 
his  debts  any  longer.  The  French  court  had  so  long  been  ac- 
customed to  the  greatest  extravagance,  that  it  was  at  a  loss  to 
know  how  it  happened  that  the  public  treasury  was  no  longer 
as  well  filled  as  formerly,  when  the  sums  drawn  from  it  were 
by  no  means  as  large-  as  those  spent  by  the  predecessors  of 


110  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

Louis  the  Sixteenth.  It  was  disagreeable  to  the  court  to  hear 
that  the  State  was  on  the  brink  of  ruin,  and  unable  to  discharge 
its  obligations ;  and  it  hated  the  man  who  had  disturbed  the 
amusements  of  Versailles  by  such  gloomy  pictures  of  the  fu- 
ture. 

Necker  had  longed  for  the  glory  of  extricating  his  adopted 
country  from  its  terrible  difficulties,  and  devoted  himself  with 
all  his  heart  to  this  great  task.  lie  was  now  to  stop  half-way, 
and  leave  his  office  at  the  very  moment  when,  by  publishing 
his  Compte  Itendu,  he  had  made  such  an  important  step  for- 
ward. 

He  now  regretted  having  placed  himself  in  a  position  which 
compelled  him  to  offer  his  resignation.  Why  should  he  have 
hankered  after  the  outward  rank  of  a  position  which  he  filled 
in  reality  ?  Why  yield  to  the  petty  pride  which  revolted  at 
such  a  slight  which  he  could  well  afford  to  despise  ? 

Suddenly  the  low  rustling  of  a  lady's  dress  fell  on  his  ears, 
and  his  wife  entered  by  the  door  which  had  only  been  ajar. 

She  looked  at  him  inquiringly  with  her  clear  blue  eyes,  and, 
when  she  noticed  the  cloud  on  his  forehead,  she  stepped  close 
up  to  him,  laid  her  right  hand  on  his  shoulder,  while  with  her 
left  she  tried  to  smooth  his  face,  and  said,  "  So  thoughtful,  my 
dear  Necker ! " 

Instead  of  replying  to  her,  he  laid  his  head,  as  if  wearily,  on 
the  partner  of  his  joys  and  sorrows,  and  tenderly  pressed  her 
delicate  white  hand  to  his  lips. 

"  There  are  several  acquaintances  in  the  salon.  Will  you 
not  salute  them  ?  "  she  asked,  gently. 

"  I  cannot  see  anybody  to-day,"  he  replied,  in  a  voice  tremu- 
lous with  emotion.  "  Go  back  to  them  and  excuse  me.  I  am 
unwell." 

"  Bodily  unwell,  too  ?  " 


THE   COMMONER   IN   THE   CABINET.  Ill 

"  Yes  The  mind  docs  not  leave  the  body  untouched ;  both 
of  them  generally  suffer  together." 

"  And  you  wish  to  conceal  from  me  what  weighs  you  down  ? " 
she  asked,  in  a  tone  of  mingled  surprise  and  vexation. 

"  It  would  probably  be  the  first  time  when  you  did  not  share 
what  concerns  me,  my  faithful  wife.  I  tried  to  conceal  it  from 
you  merely  for  a  time ;  but  as  I  am  unable  to  do  so  any  longer, 
let  me  tell  you  that  I  have  been  dismissed." 

His  wife  uttered  a  cry,  and  Necker,  as  if  overcome  by  its 
sound,  sank  upon  a  chair  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

lie  wept. 

Immovable  like  a  rock,  he  had  hitherto  stood  before  his  wife 
in  all  relations  of  life ;  his  deep  emotion,  therefore,  made  an 
overpowering  impression  upon  her.  Bursting  likewise  into 
tears,  she  knelt  before  his  chair,  drew  his  hands  gently  from 
his  face,  pressed  them  to  her  lips,  and  buried  her  own  face  in 
them.  She  uttered  not  a  word,  in  order  to  give  him  time  to 
master  his  grief;  when  she  finally  thought  that  he  had  calmed 
sufficiently  to  relieve  his  mind  by  speaking  to  her,  she  begged 
him  to  tell  her  the  reason  why  the  King  had  dismissed  him. 

"  At  my  own  request !  "  he  replied.  This  answer  re-assured 
her  greatly.  It  was  only  repentance  that  was  gnawing  at  him 
now,  and  tormenting  his  heart  with  the  bitter  reproach  that  he 
had  sacrificed  the  welfare  of  France  to  his  wounded  pride. 

"  We  shall  go  to-morrow  to  St.  Ouen,  to  our  daughter,"  said 
Necker,  as  soon  as  he  had  composed  himself.  "  Society  and 
remembrance  of  my  lost  position  are  now  exceedingly  painful 
to  me.  So  you  will  do  me  a  favor  by  inviting  as  few  guests  as 
possible." 

"  Nothing  is  sweeter  to  me  than  to  live  with  you  and  for 
you,"  replied  his  wife,  tenderly.  "  But,  my  dear  Necker,  it 
seems  to  me  the  whole  matter  is  not  yet  settled.  You  have  of- 


112  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

I'nvd  your  resignation  to  the  King,  but  his  answer  has  not  yet 
arrived." 

"  It  can  only  be  such  as  I  expect.  Otherwise  he  would  have 
to  grant  my  former  request,  which  he  can  no  longer  do.  So 
pray  prepare  everything  for  our  departure." 

"  Above  all,  let  me  request  our  guests  to  excuse  you  and  me 
for  to-day.  I  likewise  feel  unable  to  pass  my  time  in  idle  con- 
versation ;  the  more  so,  as  I  know  that  you  are  here  sad  and 
alone." 

She  left  him  in  order  to  issue  the  necessary  orders,  and  then 
returned  to  her  husband. 

"  If  it  is  agreeable  to  you,  we  shall  go  to  the  country  this 
very  day,"  she  said  to  him. 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked,  sharply. 

"  The  evening  is  so  beautiful,  I  should  like  to  enjoy  it  with 
you  in  the  open  air.  I  have  ordered  the  carriage ;  it  is  ready 
now.  Come ! " 

She  rose.  He  fixed  his  eyes  on  her.  She  dropped  her's  in 
order  to  avoid  his  glance. 

"  You  have  the  King's  reply ! "  he  said  at  length,  quickly,  as 
if  it  was  difficult  for  him  to  utter  the  words. 

Averting  her  face,  she  handed  him  a  letter.  He  seized  it, 
broke  the  seal,  glanced  over  the  contents,  and  efblaimed, "  I  am 
ready.  Let  us  go."  And  he  followed  her  hastily  to  the  car- 
riage. 

Germaine  Necker  did  not  look  for  this  sudden  arrival  of  her 
parents.  The  young  forester  had  reported  to  her  that  the  Pa- 
risians were  extolling  her  father ;  that  both  the  rich  and  the 
poor  were  reading  the  Compte  Rendu  with  the  utmost  en- 
thusiasm ;  that  even  the  ladies  at  the  Queen's  court  were  study- 
ing this  book,  and  that  every  one  was  speaking  only  of  the 
revenues  and  expenditures  of  the  State.  She  was  overjoyed  at 


THE    COMMONER    IN   THE    CABINET.  113 

her  father's  success,  and  could  uot  hear  enough  about  it.  The 
young  man  had  to  hasten  daily  to  the  city  and  bring  her  news 
from  it.  He  had  to  buy  for  her  all  the  papers  and  political  pam- 
phlets of  the  day ;  every  word  concerning  her  father  was  im- 
portant to  her. 

Her  room  was  full  of  these  papers,  which  she  did  not  permit 
anybody  to  touchy  and  as  she -herself  took  no  pleasure  in  ar- 
ranging them,  there  was  soon  scarcely  room  enough  left  for 
her  to  move  in  the  boudoir.  M'lle  Iluber  laughed  at  this  chaos, 
which  was  so  little  in  consonance  with  her  taste ;  but  Ger- 
maine  did  not  pay  any  attention  to  her  jests,  and  left  every- 
thing as  before. 

Every  now  and  then  some  of  the  many  papers  which  she  re- 
ceived contained  attacks  upon  her  father,  and  the  indignation 
with  which  they  filled  her  was  indescribable.  His  opponents 
in  the  press  called  him  the  Genevan  charlatan,  compared  him 
with  Mesmer,  derided  his  arrogance,  and  caricatured  him  in 
every  possible  way.  He  had  unfortunately  been  imprudent 
enough  to  allude  in  his  work  to  the  great  merits  of  his  wife, 
and  to  extol  her  virtues  in  a  manner  which  caused  a  great  many 
persons  to  smile.  His  adversaries  knew  how  to  turn  this  to  ac- 
count. The  young  forester  had  at  first  hesitated  to  buy  such 
papers  and  pamphlets,  too,  for  M'lle  Necker ;  but  when  she 
became  aware  of  their  existence  in  consequence  of  some  allu- 
sions which  she  had  found  in  the  other  papers,  she  insisted  on 
getting  them,  too. 

She  had  just  received  another  package  of  papers,  etc. ;  among 
them  was  a  caricature,  headed,  "  The  Hero  of  the  Deficit,"  and 
representing  her  father,  who  was  just  about  to  open  the  door 
of  the  royal  cabinet,  but  Count  d'Artois,  saying,  "  No  more 
'  Contes  bleus,'  "  prevented  him  from  so  doing.  She  tore  the 
caricature  into  a  thousand  pieces,  trampled  on  them,  and  ft- 


114  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

nally  threw  them  out  of  the  window.  She  then  sat  down  on  the 
floor  and  burst  into  loud  sobs.  M'lle  Huber  heard  these  sobs,  and 
hastened  to  her  in  order  to  console  her.  But  her  words  were 
utterly  wasted. 

The  whole  nature  of  the  young  girl  revolted  at  the  ignominy 
so  unjustly  heaped  on  her  father;  she  could  not  bear  the  idea 
that  his  eminent  services  were  to  be  requited  in  this  shameful 
manner ;  and  as  she  had  not  yet  learned  to  conceal  her  grief, 
she  freely  gave  vent  to  her  feelings. 

Exhausted  by  this  powerful  agitation,  she  had  finally  fallen 
into  a  slumber,  which  her  friend  took  care  not  to  disturb.  The 
roll  of  a  carriage,  however,  the  noise  of  voices,  the  opening 
and  closing  of  doors,  woke  her  up  before  long.  For  a  moment 
she  listened  attentively;  she  then  jumped  up  and  hastened 
down  stairs. 

When  she  crossed  the  hall,  Marmontel  had  just  entered  the 
door,  breathlessly. 

"  Your  poor  father ! "  he  exclaimed,  holding  out  his  hand  to 
her.  "  Come,  we  must  try  to  comfort  him.  He  has  not  de- 
served such  base  ingratitude." 

"  Oh,  it  is  the  basest  ingratitude ! "  she  cried,  thinking  only  of 
her  caricatures.  "Ah,  Marmontel,  you  do  not  know  how  it 
grieves  me ! " 

"  Hush,  hush !  You  must  not  now  show  that  you  grieve, 
but  receive  your  father  with  a  smiling  face,  as  if  nothing  had 
happened." 

They  entered  the  salon. 

Necker,  deeply  moved,  folded  his  beloved  daughter  to  his 
heart  He  felt  as  if  he  must  now  seek  for  two-fold  indemnifica- 
tion in  her  love  for  the  injustice  which  had  been  done  to  him, 
and  he  pressed  her  long  and  silently  to  his  breast.  It  was  not 
till  then  that  he  greeted  his  friend,  who,  having  accidentally 


THE    COMMONER   IN   THE    CABINET.  115 

learned  what  had  occurred,  had  hastened  to  St.  Ouen  in  order 
to  condole  with  him. 

Shortly  after,  Necker's  brother  made  his  appearance.  He  had 
intended  to  visit  him  in  Paris,  and,  being  informed  of  his  sud- 
den departure,  and  suspecting  that  some  untoward  event  had 
happened,  had  followed  him  to  St.  Ouen. 

The  small  circlp  sat  together  in  moody  silence.  No  one 
cared  to  allude  to  the  subject  which  weighed  down  all  hearts, 
and  yet  this  silence  was  exceedingly  disagreeable  to  all  of  them. 

Marmoutel  finally  entered  into  a  conversation  with  Germaine, 
inasmuch  as,  owing  to  her  ignorance  of  her  father's  removal, 
she  seemed  to  bf  most  inclined  to  turn  her  thoughts  toward 
other  subjects. 

"  Are  you  aware,  my  young  friend,  Jhat  our  poor  M.  Raynal 
is  going  to  be  exiled  from  Paris  on  account  of  the  new  edition 
of  his  '  History  of  India  ? '  " 

"  Indeed  ! "  she  exclaimed,  in  surprise.  "  It  is  true,  I  read 
several  allusions  to  the  probability  of  the  book  being  prohib- 
ited ;  but  I  did  not  see  anywhere  that  the  personal  liberty  of 
the  author  was  endangered." 

"  Well,  it  is  not  He  will  leave  Paris  quietly  until  the  storm 
blows  over ;  but  his  book  will  be  publicly  burned  to-morrow 
by  the  executioner  on  the  steps  of  the  archepiscopal  palace." 

"That  sounds  awful!"  exclaimed  the  young  girl,  to  whom 
her  lively  imagination  depicted  the  ceremony.  "  I  should  like 
to  see  it." 

"  Do  not  wish  for  it ;  it  would  afford  you  but  little  pleasure. 
Such  acts  remind  us  of  the  times  of  the  Inquisition,  and  are  un- 
worthy of  an  enlightened  age." 

"  I  wonder  why  the  King  permits  such  things,"  asked  Ger- 
maine, in  surprise.  "  If  I  were  in  his  place  I  should  be  fear- 
ful lest  they  should  detract  from  my  glory." 


116  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

"  Louis  the  Sixteenth  does  not  think  of  his  glory,  for  he  is  a 
King.  He  is  a  good  man,  but  never  will  be  a  great  ruler. 
It  is  true,  he  reads  a  great  many  historical  works,  especially 
histories  of  England,  but  he  never  derives  any  salutary  lessons 
from  them.  His  surroundings  probably  exercise  a  most  injuri- 
ous influence  over  him.  A  court  cannot  exist  without  para- 
sites ;  nobody  else  would  consent  to  wear  the  livery  of  princes 
and  become  their  humble  and  obsequious  servant.  These 
court  parasites  cannot  work,  inasmuch  as  they  are  of  noble 
birth ;  they  are  born  servants  of  the  King  ;  they  serve  him  be- 
cause he  supports  them." 

"  Why  do  not  these  noblemen  remain  on  their  estates,"  ex- 
claimed Gcrmaine,  "  or  serve  in  the  army  as  the  Condes, 
Montmorencys,  and  so  many  others  have  done  recently,  since 
Lafayette  opened  them  the  way  to  the  New  World  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  they  had  estates,  my  dear  Germaine !  Originally 
the  noblemen  were  vassals  of  the  King,  who  supported  the 
throne  with  their  means  and  strength.  But  this  relationship 
has  undergone  a  very  marked  change  since  that  time.  There 
are  at  this  juncture,  perhaps,  eighty  thousand  noble  families  in 
France,  a  number  which  has  grown  so  large  in  consequence 
of  the  eleven  thousand  offices  with  which  titles  of  nobility  are 
connected.  Besides,  our  kings  granted  patents  of  nobility 
nearly  every  day,  and  during  the  War  of  Succession  they  were 
sold  for  two  thousand  dollars  each.  Among  all  these  noble 
families  there  are  only  about  one  thousand  whose  names  are  as 
old  as  the  monarchy,  and  familiar  to  our  ears  by  the  remem- 
brance of  glorious  deeds.  These  great  names,  however,  were 
not  always  handed  down  to  the  descendants  with  the  grea* 
qualities  of  their  ancestors,  and  prodigal  grandsons  squan- 
dered their  fortunes,  so  that  there  remain  to  Jiie  latter  now-a- 
days  but  two  ways  to  escape  starvation,  namely,  either  to  serve 


THE    COMMONER    IX   THE    CABINET.  117 

as  parasites  at  court,  or  to  marry  the  daughter  of  a  rich  ple- 
beian." 

"  But  I  believe  the  writings  of  Rousseau  and  Voltaire,  and 
the  American  War  of  Independence,  will  impart  more  dignity 
to  nobility  of  the  mind,  so  that  it  will  eclipse  that  of  birth," 
exclaimed  Germaine. 

"  I  doubt  it,"  replied  Marmontel.  "  It  is  so  pleasant  to  be 
something  without  possessing  any  merits." 

"  And  so  unpleasant  to  see  great  merits  ignored  because 
one's  name  is  Necker  and  not  Conde." 

"  There  you  are  perfectly  right,"  he  said,  laughing. 

At  this  moment  the  footman  entered  and  told  Germaine  that 
the  young  forester  was  in  her  room. 

The  young  girl  crimsoned  at  these  words,  and  glanced  tim- 
idly at  her  father.  M.  Necker,  leaning  his  head  on  his  hand, 
had  thus  far  sat  in  seeming  apathy,  and  not  listened  to  the  con- 
versation; but  now  he  raised  himself  up,  and  fixing  his  eyes 
inquiringly  on  his  daughter,  he  said  : 

"  What  forester  is  it  who  is  at  this  hour  in  my  daughter's 
room  ?  " 

Germaine  was  in  a  tempest  of  perplexity.  She  turned  alter- 
nately red  and  pale,  and  panted  for  breath.  At  length,  she 
gathered  courage  enough  to  stammer,  "  It  is  my  messenger.  I 
send  him  often  to  the  city  to  purchase  books  and  papers  for  rne." 

"  Which  you  could  not  get  from  your  father  ?  " 

"Perhaps  you  would  dislike  to  send  them  to  me;  at  all 
events,  you  never  sent  them  to  me." 

"  Because  you  never  asked  me  to  do  so,  and  I  could  not 
anticipate  that  you  took  interest  in  such  things.  What  kind 
of  papers  did  he  purchase  for  you  ?  " 

"  You  will  find  all  of  them  in  my  room,"  said  Germaine,  in 
a  low  voice. 


118  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

"And  your  messenger,  too.  Come  then,  my  child;  let  me 
see  both  of  them,"  he  said,  rising,  taking  his  daughter's  hand, 
and  conducting  her  out  of  the  room.  Those  who  remained  in 
the  salon  looked  after  them  in  silence. 

Father  and  daughter  ascended  the  staircase  slowly. 

The  passage  up-stairs  was  dark;  the  return  of  the  parents 
not  having  been  expected,  the  upper  part  of  the  house  had  not 
yet  been  lighted.  In  M'lle  Necker's  room,  however,  burned 
two  wax  candles,  whose  light  enabled  M.  Necker  to  recognize 
the  bearer  of  the  anonymous  letter  immediately. 

"Ah!"  he  said  to  himself.  "That  is  what  I  suspected. 
Have  you  not  yet  found  out  for  me,  young  man,  who  wrote 
that  letter  to  me,"  he  said  to  the  forester. 

"  Not  yet,  Monsieur,"  replied  the  young  man,  bowing  in  con- 
fusion. 

"  And  what  is  the  news  which  you  bring  to  my  daughter  to- 
day from  Paris  ?  "  he  went  on  to  ask. 

"  Very  painful  news,  which  I  need  not  communicate  to  her, 
since  Monsieur  himself  is  here,"  he  replied,  in  a  very  respectful 
tone. 

"  So  the  rumor  of  my  removal  was  already  generally 
known?"  he  asked  in  surprise,  and  not  suspecting  that  Ger- 
maine  was  as  yet  entirely  ignorant  of  it. 

"  Your  removal ! "  she  screamed,  and  sank  senseless  to  the 
ground. 

A  gloomy  silence  reigned  next  morning  in  the  streets  of 
Paris.  It  was  Sunday,  but  no  one  thought  of  pleasure  and 
amusements. 

Like  wildfire  spread  the  dreadful  tidings  that  Necker  had 
been  dismissed.  Only  gloomy  faces  were  to  be  seen  on  the 
promenades  and  in  the  coffee-houses.  No  jests,  no  witticisms, 
to  which  the  Parisians  are  generally  always  accessible,  were 


THE    COMMONER    IK   THE    CABINET.  113 

able  to  cheer  up  the  multitude.  All  believed  to  have  lost  theii 
protector  in  Necker,  and  saw  both  themselves  and  Franca 
threatened  with  hunger  and  distress. 

As  tar  as  the  eye  reached,  the  road  to  St.  Ouen  was  covered 
with  carriages. 

The  Archbishop  of  Paris,  followed  by  the  Dukes  of  Orleans 
and  Chartres,  and  all  the  eminent  men  of  the  country,  hastened 
thither  in  order  to  tell  Necker  that  they  disapproved  the  step 
which  the  King  had  taken. 

Necker,  pale,  but  composed,  received  these  manifestations  of 
S3*mpathy.  Self-love  always  suffers  a  little  when  it  hears  the 
language  of  compassion  assume  the  tone  of  sympathy. 

Germaine  was  not  present.  She  stood  with  M'lle  Huber  on 
the  roof  of  the  house,  and  looked  at  the  endless  number  of  car- 
riages which  arrived  and  left.  Her  eyes  were  still  swollen  from 
the  tears  which  she  had  shed,  and  around  her  lips  was  quiver- 
ing the  grief  which  had  struck  her  heart;  but  the  sympathy 
manifested  for  her  father  did  her  good. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

LOUIS  PHILIPPE'S  GOVERNESS. 

MADAME  DE  GENUS  sat  in  an  elegantly  furnished  boudoir, 
and  was  playing  a  voluntary  on  her  harp.  Through  the  half- 
open  window  penetrated  to  her  the  fragrant  odors  of  hyacinths 
and  stock  gilly-flowers,  wafted  to  her  by  the  gentle  breeze 
which  played  in  the  foliage  of  the  trees,  and  moderated  the 
heat  of  the  day. 

For  a  moment  she  then  leaned  back  in  her  comfortable  easy- 
chair,  and  allowed  the  instrument  to  rest  in  her  arms.  Her 
eyes  wandered  thoughtfully  and  dreamily  about  the  room,  and 
at  last  she  fixed  them  on  the  large  painting  hanging  on  the 
wall  opposite  to  her,  and  representing  her  aunt,  Madame  de 
Montesson,  who  had  succeeded  in  becoming  the  wife  of  the 
Duke  of  Orleans,  and  having  her  niece  appointed  governess  of 
his  grandsons. 

"What  has  she  gained  by  it,  after  all?"  she  said  to  herself 
in  a  low  voice,  as  she  called  to  mind  all  these  relations  which, 
in  many  respects,  were  so  painful  to  her.  "The  Bourbons  re- 
fuse to  recognize  her;  she  must  submit  to  the  humiliation  of 
not  being  permitted  anywhere  to  appear  as  his  legitimate  wife ; 
what  good  does  it  do  her  that  she  is  his  wife  before  God,  if  men 
treat  her  as  though  she  were  not  ?  What  is  to  her  an  honor 
Which  no  one  sees,  no  one  respects,  no  one  admits  ?  " 

A  sigh  escaped  her  breast  as  these  thoughts  crossed  her 
mind. 


LOUIS   PHILIPPE^,   GOVEUXESS.  Ul 

Madame  do  Genlis  was  still  a  very  handsome  woman.    She 

' /   possessed  a  cultivated  mind,  and  her  gracefulness  lent  a  charm 

' 

to  her  every  movement;  but  all  these  attractions  were  in- 
sufficient to  procure  her  that  position  in  the  world  for  which 
-she  longed.  She  had  no  fortune ;  her  husband  squandered  more 
money  than  his  income  amounted  to ;  and  to  protect  herself  from 
want,  she  had  entered  upon  a  calling  which  imposed  many 
privations  upon  her.  She  had  written  books  which  had  been 
favorably  received.  To  live  in  brilliant  style  at  the  capital  and 
receive  at  her  house  the  most  eminent  men  of  the  age,  would 
have  satisfied  her  ambitious  heart;  instead  of  this,  her  vanity 
was  unable  to  achieve  a  higher  triumph  than  that  of  obtaining 
the  title  of  governess,  which  made  her  ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of 
a  great  many  people. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century  there  were  not 
so  many  authoresses  as  talented  ladies,  whose  standing  in 
society  and  at  home,  and  the  intercourse  with  eminent  men, 
gave  them  an  influence  which  often  enabled  them  to  sway  pub 
lie  opinion.  There  was  no  need  for  them  to  write  anything  in 
order  to  obtain  the  recognition  for  which  they  strove ;  for  the 
salon  was  the  arena  where  they  were  able  to  display  the 
charms  of  their  mind,  and  acquire  influence  even  in  the  politi- 
cal world. 

At  that  time  the  gentlemen  never  separated  from  the  ladies 
in  society;  the  conversation  at  parties  always  was  general,  and 
the  interests  of  both  sexes  were  identical.  All  took  particular 
pains  to  acquire  elegance  of  diction;  the  gentlemen,  in  order 
to  entertain  the  ladies  agreeably;  and  the  ladies,  in  order  to 
add  to  the  charm  of  their  words.  AH  made  verses,  and  a  favo- 
rite amusement  was  to  trace  word-portraits,  and  to  let  the  other 
guests  guess  the  person  who  was  meant. 

At  a  later  time,  when  political  affairs  overshadowed  all  other 
6 


122  MADAME    DE    STAKI,. 

interests,  a  change  took  place  in  this  respect ;  grave  debates 
seemed  no  longer  suitable  to  the  ears  of  ladies,  and  the  salon 
was  too  narrow  a  field  for  the  unbridled  hatred  of  the  contend- 
ing parties.  With  this  change,  manners,  nay,  costumes,  under- 
Aveut  a  marked  transformation,  and  social  refinement  disap- 
peared. 

It  was  Louis  the  Sixteenth  who  founded  the  first  club,  after 
an  English  model,  and  caused  newspapers  and  pamphlets  to  be 
purchased  for  general  use.  Little  did  he  suspect  at  that  time 
that  such  a  club,  a  society  of  men  meeting  regularly  at  a  certain 
place,  would  be  formed  against  him  a  few  years  afterward  under 
the  name  of  Jacobins,  and  demand  his  execution. 

France  at  that  lime  made  immense  steps  in  the  development 
of  intellectual  culture,  and  Europe  looked  at  her  with  astonish- 
ment and  admiration.  Frederick  the  Great  sent  to  Paris  for 
the  ornaments  of  his  court,  and  Catherine  of  Russia  became  the 
generous  protectress  of  French  savants.  Nearly  all  princes  vied 
with  each  other  in  taking  poets  or  eminent  scholars  under 
their  protection ;  and  the  representatives  of  intelligence,  thus 
honored  and  distinguished,  deemed  it  a  priceless  boon  that 
they  had  been  sent  into  the  world  endowed  with  the  imperish- 
able treasure  of  mental  ability. 

Society  granted  the  ladies  full  liberty  to  admire  talents  and 
wreathe  laurels  to  them,  but  it  disliked  to  see  their  beautiful 
hands  grasp  at  such  crowns  of  their  own.  For  them  there 
was  but  one  kind  of  glory  to  exist :  that  of  loving  and  winning 
love.  Only  the  rose  was  to  bloom  for  them,  only  its  buds  were 
to  be  plucked  by  them. 

M -image  was  a  mere  family  compact;  it  gave  the  wife  a  po- 
sition in  society;  it  was  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  obligations 
which  man  takes  upon  himself  with  his  existence.  Love  -was 
not  allowed  to  have  any  influence  at  the  conclusion  of  this 


LOUIS  PHILIPPE'S  GOVERNESS.  123 

compact,  inasmuch  as  that  might  have  led  to  a  subversion  of 
civil  order.  The  parents  or  relatives  made  the  choice,  and  if 
mau  and  wife  liked  one  another,  it  was  a  lucky  accident. 

Madame  de  Genlis  had  been  married  in  this  manner,  and  so, 
without  grieving  too  much,  submitted  to  circumstances  which 
separated  her  from  her  husband. 

She  lived  with  her  pupils  at  Chateau  Belle  Chasse,  which 
had  been  arranged  for  her  in  princely  style,  and  where  every 
comfort  of  wealth  and  luxury  was  offered  to  her ;  nevertheless, 
she  felt  the  sacrifices  which  her  position  imposed  upon  her, 
and  she  sighed  for  the  gay  life  of  the  capital.  Hence,  he  who 
visited  her  in  her  solitude,  and  entertained  her  with  news  from 
the  capital,  was  twice  welcome  to  her. 

A  valet  de  cTwtmbre,  dressed  in  the  fashion  of  that  period,  with 
powdered  hair,  and  large  lace  cuffs,  now  entered  the  room,  and 
informed  her  that  a  carriage  was  visible  in  the  long  poplar 
alley  leading  to  the  chateau. 

She  rose,  stepped  before  the  looking-glass,  and  cast  a  search- 
ing glance  at  her  slender  and  delicate  form.  She  then  put 
her  harp  aside,  and  prepared  to  go  to  meet  her  guests  in  the 
ante-room. 

By  the  doors  of  the  hall,  which  had  been  thrown  wide  open 
in  order  to  admit  the  ladies  with  their  hoop-skirts  and  their 
bonnets  fastened  to  the  high  hair-dress,  there  entered  with  a 
slow  measured  step  Madame  Necker,  followed  by  her  daughter, 
and  allowed  herself  to  be  ceremoniously  embraced  by  Madame 
de  Genlis.  Germaine  followed  her  mother's  example.  Mad- 
ame de  Genlis  then  conducted  them  to  her  boudoir,  where  all 
three  of  them  seated  themselves. 

"  How  amiable  you  are  to  visit  me  here,"  said  Madame  de 
Genlis,  very  politely.  "  I  should  have  gladly  called  on  you 
first ;  but  the  duties  of  my  position  unfortunately  prevented 


124  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

me  from  so  doing.  How  long  it  is  since  we  met  last !  M'lle 
Necker  has  meanwhile  grown  up  and  become  so  tall  and* 
strong  that  I  should  have  hardly  recognized  her.  The  air  in 
the  country  evidently  agrees  with  her.  And  now  you  live  en- 
tirely at  St.  Ouen,  as  the  Duke  told  me.  You  have  renounced 
the  pleasures  of  the  capital." 

"  Say,  rather,  that  I  have  never  known  them,"  said  Madame 
Necker,  smiling.  "  A  pleasant  domestic  circle  always  was 
the  goal  of  my  wishes,  and  as  these  were  more  than  fulfilled, 
and  in  great  part  thwarted,  I  submitted  to  the  change  as  to  a 
duty,  rather  than  a  favor  of  fate." 

"Thank  God,  it  has  relieved  you  again  of  this  burden,"  re- 
marked Madame  de  Genlis,  somewhat  maliciously. 

"  If  I  consulted  only  my  own  interest,  I  should  certainly  say, 
thank  God,"  replied  Madame  Necker,  with  her  usual  calmness ; 
"  but  the  welfare  of  the  whole  French  people  was  at  stake,  and 
my  wishes  could  not  but  be  disregarded." 

"  That  you,  although  you  are  foreigners,  take  such  a  lively 
interest  in  our  welfare,  certainly  entitles  you  to  our  gratitude," 
said  Madame  de  Genlis,  politely,  but  with  a  sarcastic  smile 
playing  round  her  lips.  "  But  you  are  aware  how  vain  men 
are ;  and  so  many  imagine  to  be  able  to  manage  the  affairs  of 
the  country  very  creditably,  nay,  they  assert  even  that  only  a 
native  of  France,  and,  moreover,  a  Frenchman  belonging  to 
the  old  nobility,  is  able  to  do  so.  Love  of  country  and  loyalty 
must  have  been  handed  down  from  age  to  age,  and  be  closely 
interwoven  with  the  interests  of  him  who  wishes  to  serve  his 
country  efficiently.  Only  a  foreigner  could  have  been  capable 
of  committing  the  indiscretion  to  publish  a  statement  of  our 
financial  condition.  This  is  what  is  said  at  court;  that  the 
Duke  of  Orleans  dissents  from  these  views,  I  am  sure  he  has 
told  you  repeatedly,  and  proved  to  you  very  recently." 


LOUIS  PHILIPPE'S  GOVERNESS.  125 

"  Is  it  possible,"  exclaimed  Germaine,  excitedly,  "  that  any- 
body on  earth  should  call  my  father's  great  deed  an  indiscre- 
tion ?  " 

"  You  must  pardon  my  daughter,"  interposed  Madame 
Necker,  "  if  she  smarts  under  every  word  of  censure  uttered 
against  M.  Necker." 

"  I  pardon  it  not  only,  but  approve  it,"  replied  Madame  de 
Genlis.  "Mademoiselle  Necker  is  still  very  young;  she  is  only 
just  entering  upon  real  life,  and  is  as  yet  ignorant  of  human 
nature.  She  has  hitherto  seen  only  one  side  of  everything, 
and  forgets  that  it  still  remains  for  her  to  view  the  other.  This 
is  a  sweet  privilege  of  youth.  Ardent  devotion  to  the  present, 
to  friends,  to  great  ideas,  passes  away  with  it,  and  our  sighs  do 
not  bring  back  anything.  I  congratulate  you,  M'lle  Necker, 
upon  possessing  a  father  on  whom  your  filial  love  may  bestow 
such  warm  admiration.  May  you  retain  this  sweet  privilege 
a  long  time ! " 

Germaine  rose  and  pressed  the  hand  of  Madame  de  Geulis 
to  her  lips.  "You  are  as  talented  as  you  are  amiable !"  she 
exclaimed.  "  You  do  not  know  how  ardently  I  admire  you, 
and  how  urgently  I  have  begged  my  mother  to  take  me  to 
you." 

"  Indeed ! "  replied  Madame  de  Genlis,  responding  by  an 
affable  smile  to  this  warm  effusion.  "  I  am  very  glad  of  it. 
If  my  writings  interest  young  folks  and  win  for  me  the  affec- 
tions of  hearts  still  susceptible  of  the  beautiful  and  good,  my 
toils  are  amply  rewarded.  I  have  just  finished  a  little  play, 
which  will  perhaps  also  please  you." 

,  "  What  is  its  title?  "  asked  Germaine.  "How  inexhaustible 
your  imagination  is,  and  how  inventive  your  mind  !  Nature 
has  lavished  its  choicest  gifts  on  you,  and  you  know  how  to 
turn  them  to  account.  But  tell  me  now,  what  is  the  title  of 


126  -MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

your  play;  what  is  its  subject;  and  for  what  purpose  did  you 
write  it?" 

"  You  propound  to  me  a  great  many  questions  at  the  same 
time,"  said  Madame  de  Genlis,  smiling;  " let  me  begin,  then, 
with  the  first.  The  title  is  Zelie  ou  V Ingenue;  and  the  subject, 
like  that  of  all  my  writings,  is  destined  to  instruct  young  folks. 
Women  should  become  authoresses  only  when,  in  doing  so, 
they  try  to  attain  an  object  far  above  the  mere  gratification  of 
our  vanity.  I  myself  determined  to  publish  my  writings  only 
after  a  severe  inward  struggle,  and,  despite  all  the  reasons 
which  induced  me  to  take  this  step,  I  have  to  call  them  often 
to  mind  in  order  not  to  rue  it" 

These  words  were  uttered  for  the  purpose  of  making  an 
impression  on  Madame  Necker,  but  they  deceived  only 
Germaine. 

"  Ah !  How  lamentable  the  lot  of  our  sex  is ! "  she  ex- 
claimed, mournfully.  "  We  are  told  that  we  are  born  only  to 
perform  the  riartow  duties  wThich  husbands  and  children  im- 
pose on  us,  and  are  alwrays  to  obey.  My  father  has  often 
praised,  in  my  presence,  the  happiness  of  stupid  persons,  and 
even  commended  writing  a  work  entitled  Le  bonlieur  des  sots." 

"  What,  has  he  had  time  to  spare  for  such  things  ?  "  asked 
Madame  de  Genlis,  in  surprise. 

"  He  knows,  like  you,  how  to  work  for  twenty-four  hours 
every  day,"  replied  Madame  Necker,  smiling.  "  But  to  return 
to  your  latest  work, — would  you  take  umbrage,  or  smile  at  my 
desire  to  be  the  first  to  get  acquainted  with  its'  contents  ?  " 

"  It  will  afford  me  great  pleasure  to  read  the  play  to  you," 
replied  Madame  de  Genlis,  kindly.  "  It  is  always  agreeable  to 
an  author  to  hear  the  opinion  of  able  critics,  before  his  work 
is  submitted  to  the  public.  Then  it  cannot  be  changed  any 
more,  but  must  remain  as  it  is." 


LOUIS  PAILIPPE'S  GOVERNESS.  127 

Madame  cle  Genlis  then  took  from  her  writing-table  a  manu- 
script written  in  a  very  neat  hand,  and  read  the  play  to  her 
guests  in  a  very  impressive  manner.  Her  voice  was  clear  and 
sonorous,  and  the  tact  with  which  she  varied  her  tone,  and 
never  exceeded  the  bounds  of  good  taste,  rendered  her  recita- 
tion exceedingly  attractive  and  entertaining.  Germaine  burst 
repeatedly  into  loud  exclamations  of  admiration,  and  when 
Madame  de  Geulis  concluded,  Uecker's  daughter  sank,  with 
streaming  eyes,  at  her  feet,  pressed  the  hands  of  the  authoress 
to  her  lips,  and  assured  her  she  had  passed  with  her  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  hours  of  her  life. 

Madame  de  Genlis,  raising  her  up  and  imprinting  a  kiss  on 
her  forehead,  thanked  her  for  her  warm  applause,  and  said, 
"  I  hope  you  and  your  dear  mother  will  take  with  you  from 
Belle  Chasse  such  impressions  as  will  cause  you  to  repeat  your 
visit." 

"  Your  presence  here  is  a  sufficient  inducement,  for  us  to  do 
so,"  said  Madame  Necker ;  "  and  if  we  deny  ourselves  the 
pleasure  of  visiting  you  frequently,  it  is  because  modesty  pre 
vents  us  from  molesting  you  too  often." 

"  That  is  a  virtue  by  which,  I  hope,  you  will  not  punish 
me,"  replied  Madame  de  Genlis,  who  felt  her  superiority  as  a 
conversationalist  too  well  not  to  display  it  before  her  guest. 
"  Perhaps  you  will  allow  me  to  show  you  the  chateau  and  the 
gardens ;  that  is  to  say,  if  it  does  not  weary  you,  Madame 
Necker,  for  you  look  feeble." 

"  I  regret  to  say  that  I  am  in  feeble  health  ;  nevertheless,  I 
must  not  use  this  as  a  pretext  to  evade  the  disagreeable  duties 
of  my  position ;  how  much  less,  then,  should  I  deny  myself 
to-day  a  pleasure  which  your  kindness  offers  to  me,"  replied 
Madame  Necker. 

Madame  dc  Genlis   found   this  answer  stJiF  and   pedantic. 


128  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

"  She  cannot  get  rid  of  the  tone  of  a  governess,"  she  said  to 
herself;  "no  intercourse  with  the  world  will  change  her." 
"  You  spoil  me  by  your  great  kindness,"  she  replied,  smilingly. 
"  I  am  now  hardly  courageous  enough  to  serve  you  as  a  guide, 
fearful  as  I  am  lest  your  trouble  should  not  be  repaid." 

"  Ah !  a  portrait  of  the  Duke  ! "  exclaimed  Germaine,  stand- 
ing still  before  the  full-length  portrait  of  a  man  in  full  uni- 
form. 

"  You  know  him  ?"  asked  Madame  de  Genlis. 

"  Only  by  his  resemblance  to  our  good  King." 

"  He  is  not  like  him,  though,  either  in  his  appearance  or 
character.  Louis  the  Sixteenth  is  not  as  good  a  man  as  he  is 
said  to  be.  His  first  thought  always  springs  from  the  im- 
pulses of  evil  passions,  and  only  the  second  is  good-natured. 
This  may  become  very  dangerous  to  a  king;  for  scarcely 
drops  the  first  syllable  from  his  lips,  when  the  obsequious  zeal 
of  a  courtier  carries  it  already  into  execution.  A  king  mast 
first  think,  and  then  act ;  that  is  what  I  teach  my  princes," 

"  I  think  you  are  perfectly  right,*'  said  Madame  Necker. 

"  Then  I  must  dissent  alone  from  your  opinion,  and  venture 
to  assert  that  all  that  is  great  and  beautiful  has  been  done  ou 
the  spur  of  the  moment,"'  exclaimed  Germaine,  glowingly. 
"  If  we  are  always  to  calculate  and  reason,  what  is  to  become 
of  the  pulsations  of  a  warm  heart  ?  Poor  human  nature ! 
they  would  like  to  deprive  you  of  all  your  rights,  and,  in  re- 
turn, build  altars  to  reason.  Love  from  reason  is  no  worse 
than  hatred  from  reason.  I  do  not  want  any  feeling,  standing 
under  the  scepter  of  this  co)d  master;  I  do  not  want  the  tear 
which  reason  weeps,  any  more  than  the  grief  to  which  it  sets 
bounds.  I  do  not  want  the  joy  which  is  manifested  in  accord- 
ance with  mathematical  calculations,  nor  the  word  of  love 
which  they  dictate  to  the  lips.  You  passions,  all  that  agitate 


LOUIS  PHILIPPE'S  GOVEFVNESS.  129 

the  human  breast,  I  invoke  you !    Is  it  not  to  be  dead  to  be 
without  you  ?...." 

"  For  God's  sake,  Germaine  1  .  ..."  exclaimed  Madame 
Necker,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Pray  do  not  Interrupt  her,"  interposed  Madame  de  Genlis. 
"  I  like  to  hear  the  utterance  of  sentiments  which,  in  this 
slippery  sphere,  fall  but  very  rarely  on  my  ears.  Propriety 
has  suppressed  much  that  is  natural  and  innocent,  and  good 
manners  do  not  permit  other  things  to  be  uttered.  Add  to  it 
the  cloistral  seclusion  in  which  our  young  girls  grow  up. 
They  are  utterly  inexperienced  at  the  time  when  they  enter 
life,  and  love  and  passion  are  words  which  have  no  meaning 
for  them.  Such,  however,  is  not  the  case  with  M'lle  Necker. 
At  her  cradle  sat  the  encyclopedists,  and  philosophers  added 
zest  to  her  play.  Having  become  a  governess,  it  is  of  course 
interesting  for  me  to  see  the  results  of  an  educational  system 
so  different  from  our  own.  I  had  always  been  told  that  M'lle 
Xecker  was  wondrously  gifted,  and  I  have  now  obtained  with 
great  pleasure  the  conviction  that  those  reports  were  perfectly 
true." 

"  My  daughter  is  very  young,  Madame,  and  although  she 
often  still  allows  herself  to  be  swayed  by  her  feelings,  and  is 
somewhat  rash  in  her  opinions,  years  and  the  world  will  teach 
her  to  cool  down  and  master  her  emotions." 

"  I  am  afraid  not,  Mamma.  '  Suppress  nature,  and  it  will 
come  back  at  the  gallop,'  says  Feuelon.  Never,  never  shall  I 
place  myself  on  a  footing  of  equality  with  trained  human  na- 
tures ;  never  shall  my  lips  utter  sentiments  which  my  heart 
does  not  feel.  I  am  my  father's  daughter.  I  shall  strive  to 
be  as  truthful  as  he  is,  and  my  heart  shall  be  as  open  as  his 
life.  Hypocrisy  and  falsehood  shall  never  stain  my  character." 

"  Excellenl  as  these  principles  are,  M'lle  Neckcr,  it  is  very 


130  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

difficult  to  adhere  to  them  in  life,"  replied  Madame  de  Genlis, 
smiling.  "  Society  compels  us  only  to  deviate  from  truth,  and 
we  must  be  false  in  a  certain  sense  in  order  to  succeed  in  this 
world.  As  a  foreigner,  however,  you  encounter  in  this  direction 
fewer  difficulties  than  we  descendants  of  an  ancient  name." 

"  For  God's  sake,  Madame,  do  not  call  me  a  foreigner,"  cried 
Germaine,  excitedly ;  "  I  am  a  child  of  this  soil  with  all  my 
heart,  and  cannot  bear  being  thus  declared  hors  la  lot.  No  place 
on  earth  would  indemnify  me  for  Paris,  and  la  rue  du  Bac  is  an 
earthly  paradise.  In  France  alone  is  to  be  found  that  conver- 
sational sprightliness  and  wit,  of  which  no  other  people  on 
earth  can  boast.  All  new  discoveries  in  the  realm  of  science 
hasten  to  us  in  order  to  be  put  to  the  test,  before  mankind  ac- 
cepts them.  How  many  of  them  did  we  see  here  within  the 
last  twenty  years !  Gall,  Mesmer,  Saint  Germain,  and  Cagli- 
ostro,  the  balloon  and  the  lightning-rod,  Gluck  and  Piccini, 
all  were  anxious  to  exhibit  their  new  discoveries  to  us.  Iii 
truth,  I  would  rather  live  in  a  Parisian  garret  on  a  hundred 
louis  d'ors  a  year,  than  dispose  of  millions  in  any  other  coun- 
try.* Paris  offers  us  an  incessant  stimulus  to  menial  activity ; 
not  a  day  elapses  but  that  brings  forth  something  new,  while 
stagnation  reigns  everywhere  else.  And  what  is  a  life  without 
progress,  but  death  ?  " 

Madame  de  Geulis  smiled. 

"  It  is  veiy  flattering  to  my  country  that  you  desire  to  look 
upon  it  as  your  own,"  she  said  ;  "  and,  perhaps,  we  may  soon 
be  happy  enough  to  consider  you  wholly  ours ;  for  your  es- 
teemed father,  no  doubt,  will  not  hesitate  to  grant  an  independ- 
ent establishment  to  his  only  daughter.  What  with  his  social 
position  and  fortune,  the  choice  of  a  husband  cannot  be  diffi- 
cult to  him." 

*  Her  own  words. 


LOUIS  PHILIPPE'S  GOVERNESS.  131 

"  We  do  not  think  of  separating  from  our  daughter,"  inter- 
posed Madame  Necker. 

"  I  do  not  think  it  a  separation  when  you  are  able  to  see  one 
another  every  day,  and  it  will  be  the  easier  for  you  to  live  close 
together,  as  your  religion  compels  you  to  give  the  preference  to 
a  young  man  struggling  for  an  independent  position  in  life ; 
for  thus  far  no  heir  of  a  great  name,  as  far  as  I  know,  has 
adopted  the  faith  of  Calvin.  However,  it  may  remain  for  M'lle 
Necker's  gifted  mind  to  bring  about  such  a  miracle,  and  I  shall 
certainly  not  grudge  her  this  triumph  either." 

"  My  daughter  has  learned  to  respect  the  religious  faith  of 
others,  and  will  take  no  pains  to  bring  over  any  proselytes  to 
her  own ;  least  of  all  will  she  try  to  convert  members  of  the  old 
nobility  of  France,  with  which  neither  my  husband  nor  I  de- 
sire to  connect  her." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  then,"  said  Madame  de  Genlis,  apologeti- 
cally, "  if  I  have  entertained  for  you  wishes  which  would  be 
but  natural  in  your  place." 

At  this  moment  the  footman  announced  that  Madame  Keek- 
er's carriage  was  at  the  door. 

The  ladies  parted  in  the  most  polite  and  cordial  manner. 
Madame  de  Genlis  accompanied  her  guests  as  far  as  the  outer 
door,  and  embraced  both  Of  them  amid  the  most  flattering  as- 
surances of  the  pleasure  which  their  visit  had  caused  to  her. 
Then,  uttering  a  "  Thank  God  ! "  she  returned  to  her  room  and 
wrote  in  her  diary :  "  These  Neckers  are  the  most  intolerable 
persons  I  have  ever  met  with — full  of  pride  and  arrogance ;  and 
the  daughter  especially,  is  utterly  unable  to  set  bounds  to  her  ex- 
travagant utterances ;  despite  her  intense  admiration  for  me, 
she  displeased  me  exceedingly,  and  I  shall  take  pains  to  de- 
pict in  a  novel  the  consequences  of  an  education  such  as  she 
has  received.  I  advised  the  mother  cautiously,  to  marry  her 


132  MADAME   DE   STAEL, 

to  some  brewer  or  baker,  and  I  hope  she  understood  what  I 
meant ;  at  all  events,  she  left  immediately." 

Madame  Necker  meanwhile  sat  by  her  daughter's  side,  strug- 
gling for  composure.  Her  feebleness  added  to  her  irritability, 
and  a  wound  that  is  constantly  torn  open  afresh,  finally  smarts 
at  the  slightest  touch.  Incessant  pains  were  taken  to  revenge 
her  husband's  position  upon  her  and  her  daughter,  and  this 
was  not  the  first  time  when  she  had  been  cautioned  against 
dreaming  of  a  connection  with  the  old  nobility  of  France.  The 
ill-will  dictating  such  hints,  could  not  but  mortify  her,  inas- 
much as  it  was  so  utterly  undeserved. 

Germaine  cast  an  anxious  glance  at  her  mother's  pale  face, 
without  suspecting,  however,  what  had  given  rise  to  this 
pallor.  She  had  not  noticed  the  drift  of  Madame  de  Genlis' 
remarks,  and,  much  gratified  at  the  conversation  she  had  had 
with  her,  gazed  up  to  the  sky  glowing  with  the  purple  tints  of 
the  setting  sun.  She  began  to  hum  a  song,  and  finally,  forget- 
ful of  the  place  where  she  was,  she  sang  in  a  loud  and  deep 
voice.  Her  mother's  warning  voice  restored  her  presence  of 
mind  to  her.  She  laughed  loudly  at  what  she  had  done.  "  It 
was  too  ludicrous,  indeed  !"  she  exclaimed.  "How  fortunate 
that  my  voice  did  not  cause  our  horses  to  run  away  1  May  I 
seat  myself  on  the  box  beside  the  coachman?"  she  asked, 
after  a  while.  "  The  evening  is  so  very  fine." 

Madame  Necker  told  her  it  would  be  unbecoming. 

"  Can  we  not  drive  by  way  t*f  Saint  Brice,"  Germaine 
began  soon  again.  "  I  should  like  to  know  when  Piccini 
will  come  to  Marmontel,  that  I  may  take  my  singing-lessons 
there." 

"  You  may  send  a  messenger  thither  to-morrow  and  ask  for 
a  written  reply,"  replied  her  mother. 

"  Always  no,  and  always  no,"  hummed  Germaine. 


LOUIS  PHILIPPE'S  GOVERNESS.  133 

"  And  if  it  were  'always  yes,'  I  soon  should  not  know  what 
you  might  not  ask  for,"  said  her  mother,  frowningly. 

"  I  know  it,  and  can  tell  you  if  you  like  to  know  it,  too : 
beauty,  and  a  handsome  husband ! "  exclaimed  Germaine, 
laughing. 

"  Hush,  for  God's  sake,  hush ! "  cried  Madame  Nccker,  in 
dismay.  "  It  is  dreadful  for  me  to  hear  such  words  from  the 
lips  of  my  daughter." 

"  My  father  would  laugh  with  me  at  such  jests,"  replied  Ger- 
maine, gently.  "  Forgive  me  if  I  vexed  you.  It  is  impossible 
for  me  to  be  such  as  you  want  me  to  be." 

Madame  Necker  made  no  reply  to  this  remark.  She  had 
leaned  back  in  the  corner  of  the  carriage  and  closed  her  eyes ; 
her  restless  neighbor,  therefore,  was  confined  to  her  own 
thoughts  until  they  reached  St.  Ouen. 


BOOK    II. 


CHAPTER    I. 

A    VISIT    TO    MARMONTEL. 

M.  NECKER'S  villa  was  close  to  St.  Brice,  which  could  be 
easily  reached  on  foot  from  St.  Ouen.  Since  Marmontel 
and  his  young  wife  had  taken  up  their  abode  there,  Germaine 
often  wended  her  way  thither,  greatly  rejoicing  in  the  diver- 
sion which  these  visits  afforded  to  her,  and  of  which  she  had 
so  much  need. 

Madame  Marmontel  had  chosen  her  husband  from  inclina- 
tion, but  without  knowing  much  about  him.  During  a  visit 
which  she  and  her  mother  had  paid  to  Paris,  M'lle  de  Mon- 
tigny  had  seen  the  poet  at  the  house  of  her  uncle,  the  Abbe 
Morellet,  and  her  relatives  had  immediately  proposed  a  match 
between  them. 

Already  over  fifty  years  of  age,  somewhat  corpulent,  and  by 
no  means  prepossessing,  Marmontel  had  little  to  offer  to  the 
young  girl  beyond  his  illustrious  name,  which,  coupled  with 
the  prospect  of  a  brilliant  life  in  Paris,  had  no  doubt  cap- 
tivated her  youthful  imagination.  And  so  she  had  become  his 
wife. 

The  feeble  health  of  their  child  had  now  induced  her  to  re- 
move to  the  country,  and  in  her  loneliness  she  was  always 


136  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

exceedingly  glad  to  be  visited  by  her  young  neighbor,  who 
created  a  new  life  around  her  from  the  rich  cornucopia  of  her 
gifted  mind.  Marmontel,  too,  was  fond  of  her.  Little  as  Mar- 
montel  liked  her  father — perhaps,  only  because  that  grave  and 
practical  man  looked  upon  the  tasks  of  the  poet  as  child's  play, 
and  smiled  condescendingly  upon  them — a  condescension 
against  which  Marmontel's  proud  spirit  rebelled — he  highly 
esteemed  Necker's  wife.  Madame  Necker  always  treated  the 
guests  of  her  house  with  great  consideration,  and,  above  all, 
she  took  pains  not  to  wound  their  little  vanity,  a  point  which 
oftener  than  is  commonly  believed  puts  an  end  to  both  friend- 
ships and  enmities. 

Germaine  had  grown  up  under  his  eyes.  He  loved  her  as  a 
daughter,  and  gladly  forgave  her  any  imprudence,  even  when 
she  offended  him  personally.  They  were  on  the  most  intimate 
terms,  and  it  was  because  of  the  jests  which  she  was  at  liberty 
to  permit  herself  with  him  that  she  liked  so  much  to  be  in  his 
company,  and  greatly  preferred  him  to  her  friends  Thomas  and 
Raynai. 

It  was  a  bright,  sunny  day  when  Germaine,  accompanied  by 
a  footman,  set  out  for  St.  Brice.  The  birds  sang  so  merrily, 
the  fields  were  so  green,  the  sky  was  so  blue,  all  nature  laughed 
at  her  so  benignantly  that  she  was  soon  in  the  best  of  spirits, 
and  had  to  laugh. with  her  surroundings. 

Madame  Marmontel  sat  at  the  door  of  her  little  villa,  hold- 
ing her  youngest  child  on  her  knees,  while  another  played  in 
the  grass  at  her  feet.  She  embraced  Germaine  tenderly,  and 
offered  her  a  chair  by  her  side ;  but  M'lle  Necker,  throwing  down 
her  bonnet  and  shawl,  seated  herself  with  the  child  in  the  grass, 
and  laughed  and  jested  with  the  little  creature  as  if  she  herself 
were  still  a  child. 

"Dear  Germaine,"  said  Madame  Marmontel,  "you  overheat 


A    VISIT   TO    MARMONTEL.  137 

yourself;  you  are  already  crimson.  Come,  leave  the  little 
boy  and  rest." 

"  Do  not  disturb  me.  I  must  give  the  reins  to  my  spirit," 
she  replied,  laughing.  "  You  do  not  know  how  the  quiet  life 
at  our  house  weighs  me  down.  I  need  exercise  and  excitement. 
I  must  see  new  and  stirring  scenes,  in  order  to  feel  well.  All 
around  me  is  now  mute  and  still.  As  long  as  my  father  gov- 
erned France,  I  had  so  much  to  hope,  fear,  and  expect ;  every 
new  morning  could  bring  fresh  successes,  fresh  crises,  and  I 
passed  many  a  sleepless  night  in  expectation  of  the  morning 
and  of  the  newspapers.  Now  they  do  not  contain  anything 
that  I  care  to  read.  Everything  seems  to  be  dead." 

"  But  you  do  not  lead  a  very  lonely  life ;  there  are  constantly 
guests  at  your  house,  and  your  father's  friends  visit  you  almost 
every  day." 

"  So  they  do.  But  they  have  grown  old — much  too  old  for 
me.  I  have  need  of  a  fresh,  merry  life,  and  that  cannot  be 
found  at  our  house.  Those  who  visit  us  stand  already  with  one 
foot  in  the  grave." 

"  You  are  jesting ! "  exclaimed  Madame  Marmontel,  laughing. 

"  I  am  jesting  in  dead  earnest,"  cried  Germaine,  springing  to 
her  feet,  and  striding  up  and  down  the  small  lawn.  "  I  am 
jesting  like  a  man  who  feels  the  rope  already  at  his  throat,  and 
does  not  care  to  put  his.  head  into  the  noose.  My  jests  are 
bitter,  bitter  earnest.  Just  look  at  the  nice  young  gentlemen, 
my  dear  Adele,  by  whom  lam  surrounded.  There  is  my  dear 
Grimm,  who,  for  the  rest,  Is  not  grim-looking  at  all ;  he  is  a 
handsome  young  sexagenarian,  and  always  has  his  head  full  of 
the  reports  by  which  he  wants  to  entertain  his  august  friends 
at  the  north  pole.  I  cannot  jest  with  him,  for  a  courtier  Is  not 
at  liberty  to  laugh  ;  it  would  injure  his  rouge.  Then  there  is 
d'Alembert,  poor  faithful  soul !  who  still  sheds  tears  for  his 


138  MADAME    DE   STAEL. 

late  lamented  M'lle  Espinasse;  with  him  I  can  only  weep,  for 
he  longs  to  follow  her  into  the  grave,  into  the  still,  cool 
grave.  Diderot  has  suffered  for  a  long  time  past  from  an  in- 
curable disease.  Our  faithful  Thomas  is  by  far  too  good  for 
this  earth ;  he  writes  now-a-days  only  funeral  orations ;  he 
judges  only  the  dead ;  he  sits,  grave,  sti,ff,  and  taciturn,  like  a  god 
of  Hades,  before  my  mother,  and  says  every  now  and  then, 
'  Virtue  is  beautiful,  for  you  are  its  priestess.'  "  d 

"  Germaine,  Germaiue!"  exclaimed  Madame  Marmontel,  re- 
proachfully, yet  laughing  merrily  at  the  exuberant  humor  of 
the  young  girL 

"  Then  there  is  Raynal,"  continued  Germaine,  without  allow- 
ing herself  to  be  disturbed  by  the  exhortation.  "  He  is  a  new 
Messiah,  a  preacher  in  the  wilderness,  but  he  only  wants  to 
subvert  everything,  and  not  rebuild  anything.  What  is  bad,  is 
bad ;  and  when  he  is  asked  how  a  change  for  the  better  is  to  be 
brought  about,  he  shrugs  his  shoulders.  Now,  I  am  utterly 
averse  to  such  teachings.  I  want  to  enjoy  life  and  be  happy. 
I  want  to  hope,  wish,  and  share  the  aspirations  of  humanity, 
which  only  youth  can  do;  for  it  has  a  future ;  it  will  see  the 
seeds  ripening  into  fruit,  and  so  it  scatters  them  broadcast  and 
with  joyful  courage." 

"  You  must  marry,"  exclaimed  Madame  Marmontel.  "  Look 
at  my  children ;  they  are  the  right  kind  of  seeds.  Here  I  find 
hope,  a  future,  and  all  that  you  long  for."  She  held  her  babe 
up  to  her. 

Germaine  patted  the  child's  cheeks,  and  then,  glancing 
archly  at  the  mother,  said,  "  You  wish  to  convert  me  to  a  faith 
which  is  as  old  as  the  world;  but  it  will  not  stand  the  test  in 
this  respect.  I  wish  to  exist  first  for  myself,  and  then  only  for 
others.  Was  I  not  also  a  child  ?  And  now  that  I  am  growii 
up,  the  world  shall  first  pay  me  what  it  owes  me ;  I  want  tc 


A   VISIT   TO    MAKMONTEL.  jgg 

help  to  raise  the  wings  of  our  times  that  they  may  carry  m 
along  in  their  flight;  T  want  to  join  in  their  aspirations,  and 
tiave  my  name  mentioned  whenever  they  call  for  deeds     Our 
3  to  share  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  humanity.    To  shirk 
slot  is  to  impoverish  one's  self,  and  narrow  one's  heart 
instead  of  expandingit.    All  honorto  theduties  of  maternity 
I  want  to  perform,  in  the  first  place,  the  duties  of  human-' 
ity,  and  not  until  then  those  of  maternity." 

"  So  excited,  my  young  friend ;»  exclaimed  at  this  moment  a 
voice  behind  her,  and  Marmontel,  holding  out  his  hand  to  her 
stepped  forward.    His  round  face  glistened,  owing  to  the  heat' 
day ;  his  wig  was  somewhat  displaced,  and  his  whole  fig- 
ure presented  an  exceedingly  ludicrous  appearance.    QuickC 
passing  from  earnest  to  jest,  Germaine  stooped,  picked  up  her 
iet,  put  it  on  the  poet's  head,  and  burst  into  loud  lau-hter 
Harmontel  entered  into  the  jest,  and  made  a  graceful  obeisance* 
it  what  do  I  see?"  cried  Germaine,  suddenly.    "These 
3S  on  your  waistcoat,  each  of  which  is  as  large  as  a  green 
roff,  are  splendid!    Let  me  look  at  them  closely!    In  truth 
"Metamorphosis!"    What,  you  dare  to  exhibit  them 
icly  during  the  reign  of  so  virtuous  a  King  as  Louis  the 
Sixteenth,  while  Rome  banished  the  poet  from  its  walls  ?    Law 
and  justice,  are  you  then  empty  words !    And  you,  my  most 
istere  poet,  why  did  you  choose  these  voluptuous  pictures 
others  wear  the  Roman  Emperors  on  their  buttons  and 
cause  their  children  to  count  political  history  on  their  fibers 
by  looking  at  the  bright  metal.    As  you  insisted  on  adoptin- 
t  fashion,  I  should  in  your  place  have  tried  to  combine  some 
secret  little  pedagogical  object  with  it." 
"  A  poet  is  not  at  liberty  to  be  so  practical,"  exclaimed  Mar- 
»ntel,  laughing.    «  We  must  know  how  to  lose  our  heads 
every  day  !    How  should  they,  then,  at  last  sit  so  firtaly  on  our 


140  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

bodies  ?  But  now  pray  inform  me  of  the  advantage  which  you 
derive  from  the  Babylonian  tower  on  your  head,  beside  its 
height?" 

"  The  advantage  of  not  being  overlooked  so  easily,"  she  said, 
laughing. 

"  Very  good,"  exclaimed  Marmontel.  "  You  always  are  quick 
at  repartee.  Even  though  I  should  now  place  myself  between 
you  and  the  sun,  you  would  not  be  totally  eclipsed." 

"  Because  I  would  then  borrow  fresh  light  from  you,"  she 
said,  archly. 

"Hush,  hush!  No  personalities;  otherwise  my  little  wife 
will  be  jealous." 

"  Never  fear.  Holding  the  future,  as  she  does  on  her  knees, 
she  can  do  without  the  past." 

"  That  was  a  malicious  remark,  Germaine,"  exclaimed  the 
young  wife,  threatening  her  with  her  finger. 

At  this  moment  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  young  man,  who  fastened  his  horse  to  the  garden- 
gate,  and  then  walked  down  the  short  path  toward  them  with  a 
quick  step  and  proud  air.  All  of  them  fixed  their  eyes  upon  him. 

Marmontel  was  too  near-sighted  to  recognize  the  new  comer 
until  he  was  quite  close  to  them  ;  but  he  then  hastened  toward 
the  stranger  with  the  liveliest  joy,  and  replied  as  follows  to 
his  polite  greeting : 

"  What,  M.  de  Narbonne,  you  here  at  my  humble  home  ? 
May  I  inquire  to  what  I  am  indebted  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  in  this  rural  solitude  ? 

"I  had  unfortunately  to  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  your 
Tusculum  on  purpose,"  replied  M.  de  Narbonne,  bowing  to  the 
ladies,  and  then  casting  at  Marmontel  a  glance  which  contained 
the  mute  request  to  introduce  him  to  the  ladies. 

"My  wife,"  said    Marmontel,   "and   our   neighbor,   M'lle 


A    VISIT   TO    MARMONTEL.  141 

Necker,  who  has  honored  us  with  her  visit.  M.  de  Narbounc," 
he  then  added,  "  Cavalier  of  Honor  to  the  Princess  Adelaide 
and  Colonel  of  the  Piedmont  Regiment.  Pray  take  a  seat." 

Upon  hearing  the  name  Necker,  the  young  man  had  cast  at 
Germaine  an  inquiring  glance,  which  had  not  escaped  her. 
She  was  likewise  unable  to  conceal  her  surprise  at  so  unex- 
pectedly meeting  here  this  young  nobleman,  who  was  praised 
everywhere  in  Paris  on  account  of  his  prepossessing  appear- 
ance, his  ability,  knowledge,  and  winning  manners.  She 
fixed  her  dark  radiant  eyes  searchingly  upon  him ;  but  when 
their  glances  met,  she  dropped  her  eyes,  and  a  deep  blush 
mantled  her  cheeks. 

"  Marshal  de  Duras,"  began  M.  de  Narbonne  again,  "  has  sent 
me  to  you,  M.  Marmontel,  in  order  to  request  you  to  favor  him 
with  a  new  production  of  your  dramatic  muse.  He  desires  to 
have  it  performed  at  Fontainebleau  during  the  visit  of  the  Grand- 
Duke  of  Russia.  Besides,  he  would  like  to  surprise  our  Queen 
with  a  new  opera  of  whose  origin  she  would  be  ignorant ; 
und  if  it  is  to  afford  pleasure  to  her,  it  must  have  been  written 
by  you.  May  I  be  the  bearer  of  a  reply  in  the  affirmative  ? " 

"It  will,  of  course,  afford  me  particular  pleasure  to  comply 
with  the  Marshal's  request;  however,  I  cannot  tell  yet  when 
it  will  be  possible  for  me  to  do  so,"  said  Marmontel,  bowing 
politely.  "  I  am  still  at  work  upon  a  new  opera  jointly  with  Pic- 
cini,  who,  for  this  reason,  stays  with  me  here  at  St.  Brice;  as 
soon  as  we  have  finished  our  work,  I  shall  lay  it  before  the  Mar- 
shal. We  hope  it  will  be  successful ;  but  we  may  be  mistaken. 
Authors  often  overrate  their  works." 

"  You  never  can  do  so,"  replied  Narboune,  with  the  exqui- 
site politeness  peculiar  to  that  period.  "  May  I  inquire  what 
title  the  opera  will  bear  ?  " 

" '  Dido  '  will  be  the  title." 


112  •  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

"  A  very  promising  title.  And  how  soon  might  the  Marshal 
look  for  a  communication  from  you  regarding  the  completion 
of  the  work?" 

"  Pray  tell  him  that  I  shall  think  of  it,  and  soon  inform  him 
of  everything,  in  a  personal  interview.  Assure  him,  further- 
more, of  my  devotedness,  and  of  the  pleasure  which  it  affords 
me  to  serve  him." 

"  So  my  mission  has  not  been  unsuccessful,  and  I  may  be 
glad  that  it  remains  for  me  to  convey  so  favorable  a  reply  to 
the  Marshal,"  replied  M.  de  Narbonne,  politely.  "  My  good 
star  seems  to  have  guided  me  hither ;  for  the  desire  which  I 
have  entertained  for  a  long  time  past,  to  be  introduced  to  the 
family  of  M.  Necker,  has  now,  at  least  in  part,  been  fulfilled." 
Permit  me,  Mademoiselle,  to  tell  you  that  I  revere  and  ad- 
mire your  eminent  father,  and  shall  be  proud  to  be  allowed  to 
present  my  respects  to  him  personally." 

As  he  said  so,  Germaine  raised  her  dark  eyes  again,  while  a 
sunbeam  of  joy  illuminated  her  face. 

"  You  gladden  my  heart  by  honoring  my  father,"  she  re- 
plied. "  Every  word  of  praise  which  you  bestow  on  him,  en- 
ters my  heart." 

"  In  that  case  I  am  afraid  you  will  find  me  doubly  eloquent," 
replied  M.  de  Narbonne,  with  a  winning  smile  ;  "  for  although 
I  have  never  before  been  so  happy  as  to  meet  with  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  illustrious  Necker,  I  have  heard  a  great  deal  about  her 
for  a  long  time  past." 

Germaine  looked  in  surprise  at  the  young  man.  The  grace- 
ful ease  of  his  replies,  coupled  with  the  polished  manners 
which  constant  intercourse  with  the  best  society  imparts  to  us, 
was  very  different  from  the  stiff  and  pedantic  style  reigning  at 
the  house  of  her  parents.  It  made  a  very  agreeable  impression 
upon  her,  and  she  longed  to  join  in  the  same  tone. 


A    VISIT   TO    MAKMONTEL.  143 

"  We  have  a  common  acquaintance  who  has  often  mentioned 
your  name  to  me,"  she  said. 

"  You  refer  to  Condorcet,  the  enthusiastic  lover  of  liberty  ? 
He  must  have  been  chary  of  my  praise ;  for  he  blamed  me  for 
not  going  to  America  when  the  flower  of  our  nobility  emigrated 
thither  in  order  to  fight  for  a  cause  which  did  not  concern  us 
much." 

"If  the  cause  did  not  concern  us  much,  the  idea  did,"  inter- 
posed Marmontel. 

"  For  this  idea  I  could  kindle  my  enthusiasm  just  as  well  in 
France,  for  there  reigns  so  much  republicanism  in  our  midst  that 
.  we  need  not  look  for  it  elsewhere.  *  Our  country  needs  our 
best  strength  in  order  to  rise  from  her  decline.  What  your 
father  has  done  for  us  in  this  respect,  M'lle  Necker,  is  by  far  more 
praiseworthy  than  all  the  fighting  in  the  other  hemisphere,  by 
which  Lafayette,  Segur,  and  Montmorency  wish  to  dazzle  us 
without  being  useful  to  us." 

"  I  do  not  know,  M.  de  ISTarbonne,  if  I  can  subscribe  to  this 
opinion,"  said  Gennaine,  while  her  eyes,  following  the  flight  of 
her  ideas,  forgot  her  surroundings  and  glowed  enthusiastically. 
"  History  knows  no  instance  of  the  subjects  of  an  absolute 
monarch  being  permitted  to  participate  in  a  straggle  for  liberty, 
and  of  being  regarded  at  home  as  heroes  that  cannot  be  admired 
too  ardently.  If  we  did  not  blindly  rush  forward  to  the  future, 
these  heroes  would  have  been  beheaded  as  traitors  to  a  princi- 
ple constituting  the  basis  of  monarchial  States.  But  we  do  not 
see  the  abyss  on  whose  verge  we  are  walking.  As  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Troy  shut  their  ears  to  Laocoon's  words,  so  no  pre- 
monitory symptoms  are  heeded  here,  and  we  hope  and  wish 
on,  and  play  with  the  danger,  until,  growing  far  beyond 
our  strength,  it  will  swallow  up  everything  that  stands  in 
*  Narbonne's  own  .vords. 


144  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

its  way.  We  ourselves  call  the  wrath  of  heaven  do.vn  on  our 
heads." 

"  Then  we  are  agreed,"  replied  Narbonne,  who,  while  she 
was  speaking,  did  not  avert  his  eyes  from  her  beaming  face. 
"  When  I  say  there  is  republicanism  enough  in  France,  I  refer 
to  views  such  as  you  and  I  entertain,  M'lle  Necker ;  an  ardent 
longing  for  reforms,  for  institutions  which  empower  the  people 
to  participate  in  the  government  of  the  country,  and  tie  the  hand 
of  the  head  of  the  State,  when  it  whimsically  tries  to  cut  the 
thread  of  the  life  of  the  country,  and  wants  to  decide  thought- 
lessly upon  the  fate  of  millions.  To  strive  for  the  attainment 
of  this  object,  one  need  not  fight  in  America  in  order  to  con- 
quer for  others  those  rights  which  we  should  first  gain  for  our- 
selves. Is  not  that  your  opinion,  too?  " 

He  looked  at  her  inquiringly.  Instead  of  a  reply,  tears 
slowly  rolled  down  her  cheeks.  The  "you"  and  "  I"  of  his 
words  had  produced  a  wonderful  effect  upon  her.  She  did 
not  feel  that  sympathy  for  the  aspirations  of  the  people  for 
more  liberal  institutions,  which  he  believed  to  find  in  her ;  her 
views  on  this  subject  had  been  quickened  by  the  study  of 
history  and  of  Montesquieu's  "  Esprit  des  Loi ;"  lut  they  still 
slumbered  in  her  mind  without  her  having  found  an  aim  in 
regard  to  which  she  might  have  tried  to  carry  them  into  effect. 
His  words  had,  all  of  a  sudden,  pointed  out  to  her  such  an  aim. 
She  was  not  to  indulge  in  dreams  of  liberty  for  nations  which 
she  knew  only  by  name,  but  to  help  to  achieve  this  liberty  for 
the  soil  on  which  she  lived,  was  her  vocation. 

The  steadfast  gaze  which  he  now  fixed  on  her  confused 
her. 

"  Your  words  have  deeply  moved  me,  M.  de  Narbonne,"  she 
said,  timidly.  "  Pardon  me  for  withholding  my  answer  from 
you  for  a  moment.  It  could  not  but  surprise  me  to  hear  that 


A   VISIT  TO    MARMOXTEL.  145 

a  young  man  of  your  rank  and  position  tried  to  find  such  a 
liarmouy  between  bis  own  political  opinions  and  mine.  It 
makes  us  so  very  happy  to  hear  others  utter  what  we  have 
scarcely  yet  ventured  to  confess  to  ourselves," 

"  And  yet,  such  is  the  usual  course  in  affairs  of  the  heart," 
said  Narbonuc,  with  a  significant  glance ;  "  why  should  it  not, 
then,  be  thus  with  political  views  ?  " 

Germaine  became  nervous  and  uneasy.  She  rose  aud 
quickly  walked  up  and  down  the  small  garden  ^  and  she  then 
resumed  her  seat  M.  de  Narbonne  had  followed  her  with  his 
eyes. 

"  Will  you  intercede  in  my  behalf  with  your  esteemed 
father,  when  I  beg  leave  oif  him  to  be  introduced  to  him  ? "  he 
said  to  her. 

"  That  will  be  needless,  M,  de  Narbonne-,  your  name  recom- 
mends you  sufficiently." 

"  Possibly  you  may  meet  M,  Necker  here  to-day,  for  he 
usually  comes  here  for  his  daughter,"  interposed  Marmontel. 

"  You  remind  me  in  time  that  I  ought  to  go  home,"  ex- 
claimed Germaine,  My  father  promised  to  meet  me  half-way, 
and  told  me  to  say  to  you,  dear  M,  Marmontel,  that  it  would 
be  very  wholesome  for  you  to  accompany  me  that  far,  and  bid 
him  good-evening.  But,  inasmuch  as  you  have  a  guest,  I  will 
at  once  relieve  you  of  this  obligation,  but  impose  on  you  tlie 
duty  of  indemnifying  my  father  in  the  course  of  to-morrow." 

"  The  guest  will  not  allow  himself  to  be  used  as  a  pretext 
for  depriving  M,  Marmontel  of  the  agreeable  duty  of  accom- 
panying M'lle  Necker ;  and  if  you  will  permit,  he  will  himself 
be  so  happy  as  to  perform  this  part  of  liis  route  in  your  com- 
pany," said  Narbonne. 

"  It  is  so  easy  to  consent,  when  one  gains  either  way,"  mer- 
rily said  Germaine,  rising  from  her  seat 
7 


146  MADAME    DE    STAEI,. 

They  then  set  out. 

M.  tie  Narbonne  led  his  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  walked  by 
Germain  e's  side.  The  conversation  was  at  first  monosyllabic, 
and  referred  to  indifferent  topics ;  gradually,  however,  Ger- 
maiue's  bashfulness  wore  off,  'as  she  yielded  to  the  current  of 
her  own  ideas. 

The  sun,  resembling  a  vast  ball  of  fire,  stood  in  the  western 
sky  ;  dense  clouds  gathered  before  it,  and  emitted,  every  now 
and  then,  flashes  of  lightning;  from  the  meadows  arose  humid 
vapors,  and  dissolved  before  the  scudding  clouds  like  fugitive 
shadows  ;  the  flowers  sent  forth  their  last  perfumes,  and  closed 
their  cups;  nature  breathed  the  tranquillity  attendant  upon 
the  parting  of  daylight. 

The  dark  eyes  of  the  young  girl  beamed  more  gently  as  she 
gazed  upon  the  peaceful  scene  around  her.  Powerful  as  were 
her  emotions,  the  beauty  of  this  tepid  summer  evening  made 
a  deep  impression,  while  by  her  side  walked  a  young  man 
who  seemed  to  her  the  incarnate  ideal  of  all  the  dreams  of 
her  youth.  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears ;  and  yet  she  felt  like 
laughing.  She  was  unable  to  compose  her  mind,  and  did  not 
understand  herself  amidst  this  chaos  of  conflicting  emotions. 

"  So  thoughtful  ?  "  asked  M.  de  Narbonne,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  am  gazing  upon  nature  in  its  deceptive  peace,"  she  re- 
plied, as  if  absently.  "Look  at  that  cloud  yonder;  lightning 
rests  in  it  as  passion  slumbers  in  the  human  soul.  There  is 
but  an  electric  spark  needed,  but  a  word  touching  the  right 
point,  and  our  emotions  exceed  their  limits,  our  will  is  unable 
to  curb  them  any  longer." 

"  I  wish  I  could  utter  this  word ! "  exclaimed  Narbonne 
But  she  took  no  notice  of  this  remark,  and,  folding  her  hands 
on  her  breast,  as  if  in  prayer,  she  added : 

"  Creator  of  this  beautiful  nature,  let  your  hand  rest  on  me 


A  VISIT  TO  MARMO:NTTEL.  147 

and  protect  me,  for  I  ain  unable  to  do  so  myself.  When  hap- 
piness knocks  at  my  door,  I  shall  open  it ;  for  all  I  long  for  is 
happiness ;  but  how  it  will  come  to  me  I  do  not  know,  and  I 
am  almost  afraid  of  its  appearance.  It  stands  menacingly  be- 
fore nay  eyes  like  the  cloud  yonder  with  its  hidden  thunder- 
storm. Ah,  I  know  it  will  crush  me  ;  and  never,  never  will 
it  be  vouchsafed  to  me  to  walk  as  a  light-hearted,  merry  child 
of  the  moment  on  earth.  There  is  too  much  earnest  in  my  soul, 
and,  moreover,  I  always  do  what  I  regret  a  moment  afterward." 

She  had  uttered  the  last  words  in  so  low  a  tone  that  her 
companion  had  not  understood  them. 

"  You  are  speaking  to  the  clouds  of  heaven,"  said  M.  de  Nar- 
bonne,  jocularly,  "  which  are  unable  to  reply  to  you,  and  mean- 
while forget  a  son  of  earth  who  sighs  for  words  from  your  lips." 

"  Pardon  me,"  replied  Germaine,  perceiving  her  absence  of 
mind;  "I  have  grown  up  alone;  I  had  no  playmates;  I  am 
still  so  much  alone  that  I  could  not  but  accustom  myself  to  ut- 
tering my  thoughts  to  myself,  and  listening  to  the  sound  of  my 
own  words.  My  mind  is  exceedingly  active,  and  I  long  to 
communicate  my  thoughts  to  others." 

"  One  should  gain  thereby  if  you  would  be  kind  enough  to 
prefer  human  ears  to  the  elements." 

"  You  are  sarcastic,  M.  de  Narbonne,  and,  what  is  worse,  I 
feel  that  I  deserve  your  sarcasm." 

"  In  this  manner  one  will  be  able,  without  committing  any 
indiscretion,  to  read  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  your  heart,"  re- 
plied the  young  man,  smiling. 

"  Unfortunately  nothing  will  be  easier  than  that,"  said  Ger- 
maine, suddenly  assuming  a  jocose  tone,  "  for  I  am  almost  un- 
able to  keep  any  secrets  of  mine.  It  is  my  nature  to  divulgo 
everything."  * 

*  "  C'est  ma  nature  ainsi,"  a  stereotyped  phrase  of  Madame  de  Stael. 


148  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

"But  the  little  god  forbids  it;  when  he  speaks,  you  will 
have  to  keep  silence." 

"  I  shall  not  submit  to  any  such  compulsion  ;  I  am  too  ar- 
dent a  lover  of  liberty  for  that,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"  Ah,  then,  you  misunderstand  political  liberty,  as  most 
people  do.  A  free  constitution  necessitates  the  greatest  self- 
control  on  the  part  of  the  individual.  When  one  makes  one's 
own  laws,  one  is  certainly  not  at  liberty  to  break  them.  He 
who  does  not  know  how  to  obey,  and  wants  to  disobey  the 
laws,  is  not  fit  for  a  liberal  constitution." 

"So  I  am  proscribed  from  the  very  first,  for  1  am — let  me 
confess  I  am — utterly  averse  to  such  obedience." 

"  There  will  be  a  master  who  will  teach  you  obedience,  or 
do  you  know  him  already  ?  " 

"  Poesy  has  made  me  acquainted  with  him,"  said  Germaine, 
jestingly.  "  "When  I  walk  on  the  summits  of  life  in  pursuit  of 
the  beautiful  and  good,  I  divine  the  highest  bliss,  and  call  it 
love." 

"  And  he  who  is  to  be  its  embodiment  to  you,  has  not  yet  ap- 
peared before  your  eyes?  "  asked  M.  de  Narbonne,  gazing  into 
her  eyes. 

Germaine  was  about  to  answer  this  question,  when  M. 
Necker  emerged  from  a  by-path,  and  greeted  the  party  with  a 
joyous  "  Ah  I"  His  daughter  immediately  took  his  arm,  and, 
after  Marmontel  had  exchanged  a  few  words  with  him,  she 
presented  M.  de  Narbonne  to  him.  There  was  nothing  very 
polished  or  winning  in  Necker's  manner,  and  toward  young 
noblemen  whose  arrogance  he  knew,  and  whose  condescending 
bearing  offended  him,  he  usually  assumed  an  air  of  haughti- 
ness which  made  him  ridiculous.  The  contrast  between  his 
conduct  and  that  of  the  courtly  cavalier  became  then  only  the 
more  striking.  To-day,  too,  he  assumed,  as  soon  as  he  heard 


A   VISIT   TO    MAKMONTEL.  149 

Narbonne's  name,  an  air  which  was  to  inform  the  nobleman 
that  he  stood  before  a  man  to  whom  he  must  bow.  But  this 
did  not  deter  M.  de  Narbonne.  Coudorcet  had  familiarized 
him  sufficiently  with  Necker's  peculiarities,  and  his  polished 
manners  enabled  him  to  soften  the  stiffness  of  the  celebrated 
financier  by  his  easy  and  winning  grace.  He  made  the  most 
favorable  impression  upon  Necker,  who,  at  parting,  expressed 
the  wish  to  see  him  at  his  house  at  his  earliest  convenience. 

While  Germaine  was  now  walking  by  her  father's  side  in 
the  constantly  growing  darkness,  she  felt  as  if  her  feet  no  lon- 
ger touched  the  ground :  so  hopeful  and  light  was  her  heart, 
so  full  of  strange  expectations  was  her  head. 

"  How  beautiful  this  day  was  ! "  she  exclaimed,  and  related 
to  her  father  what  she  had  heard  during  her  visit  to  Mannon- 
tel's  house.  Necker  listened  to  her  thoughtfully.  The  remarks 
of  M.  de  Narbonne  found  an  echo  in  his  breast,  and  he  desired 
to  converse  on  this  subject  with  the  young  nobleman,  inasmuch 
as  he  occupied  a  stand-point  from  which  many  questions  might 
be  viewed  in  an  entirely  new  light. 

Germaine,  however,  did  not  allow  him  to  dwell  on  this 
grave  subject ;  she  managed  to  turn  the  conversation  toward 
less  serious  matters,  and,  by  dint  of  a  thousand  jests  and  bright 
sallies,  to  make  her  father  laugh  merrily.  Her  satisfaction  at 
his  mirth  added  to  her  vivacity,  and  the  result  was  that  both 
of  them  tried  to  surpass  one  another  in  telling  witty  anecdotes. 

They  performed  the  short  distance  much  sooner  than  they 
desired,  and  reached  the  villa  where  Madame  Necker  awaited 
them.  Supper  was  ready,  they  sat  down  to  it,  and  Madame 
Necker  asked  in  a  tone  of  ill-concealed  vexation,  how  Germaine 
came  to  be  so  excited  ? 

"  I  have  passed  a  very  happy  afternoon,"  replied  the  young 
girl ;  but  she  then  dropped  her  knife  and  fork  and  burst  into 


150  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

tears.  The  sudden  return  of  her  thoughts  to  M.  de  Narbonne 
caused  this  painful  emotion ;  she  told  herself  that  he  was 
already  far  away  at  this  moment,  had  reached  Paris,  called 
upon  some  of  his  friends,  and  no  longer  remembered  his  meet- 
ing with  her  who  would  have  given  everything  to  see  him 
again.  All  at  once  she  felt  so  lonely,  so  deserted.  Her  mother 
looked  at  her  in  surprise.  This  glance  added  to  Germaine's 
confusion.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  could  not  utter 
what  passed  in  her  heart,  and  her  frank  and  open  nature  suf- 
fered from  this  concealment  which  the  opinion  of  others,  and 
not  her  own  wishes,  forced  upon  her.  In  an  agony  of  grief 
and  perplexity,  she  jumped  up  and  hastened  out  of  the  room. 

Madame  Necker  sighed.  "  How  silly  she  is ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  her  husband,  soothingly.  "  She  has 
reached  an  age  when  she  herself  does  not  know  what  she 
wants,  and  when  there  awaken  in  her  heart  feelings  which  she 
is  unable  to  interpret.  Leave  her  alone.  She  is  like  all  other 
girls." 

"  I  never  acted  thus,"  said  Madame  Necker. 

"  Because  nature  had  given  you  the  character  of  a  saint,"  re- 
plied her  husband. 

This  reply  pacified  her. 


CHAPTER  H. 

MARRIAGES  DE  CONTENANCE. 

M'LLE  NECKER  stood  on  the  balcony  of  her  house  and  peered 
into  the  distance.  Her  elegant  toilet  indicated  that  she  await- 
ed visitors,  and  her  face  plainly  expressed  the  impatience  with 
which  she  looked  forward  to  their  arrival. 

A  dense  cloud  of  dust  on  the  road  leading  to  Paris  now  in- 
dicated the  approach  of  a  carriage.  At  this  discovery  she  was 
about  to  turn  quickly  and  hasten  back  to  the  salon,  when  the 
sound  of  a  man's  step  fell  on  her  ears ;  she  stood  still  in  order 
to  listen,  but  at  the  same  moment  M.  de  If  arbonne  came  already 
to  meet  her. 

"What?"  she  exclaimed,  in  surprise.  "Have  you  wings? 
I  did  not  see  anybody  arrive,  and  yet  you  are  here  ?  That 
looks  like  a  miracle." 

"  Which  I  gladly  perform  in  order  to  hasten  to  you,"  he  re- 
plied, bowing  politely. 

"  The  compliment  loses  its  value  when  I  call  to  mind  how 
long  it  is  since  we  met  last,  M.  de  Narb'onne." 

"  The  days  when  I  was  not  allowed  to  hasten  to  St.  Ouen 
eeem  to  me  as  many  years,  M'lle  Necker." 

"  You  were  not  allowed  to  come  here  because  you  did  not 
want  to  do  so  ?  "  she  replied,  in  a  slightly  reproachful  tone. 

"Because  I  could  not  do  so,  you  should  say,  M'lle  Necker." 

"  And  what  was  it  that  detained  you  in  your  beautiful  Paris  ? 
if  you  do  not  consider  this  question  impertinent" 


152  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

"  The  festivities  in  -which  I  had  to  participate.  Lafayette, 
you  are  aware,  has  returned  ;  he  was  received  at  court  simul- 
taneously with  the  Grand-Duke  of  Russia,  the  most  singular 
juxtaposition  that  can  be  imagined.  The  representative  of 
absolute  despotism  by  the  side  of  the  champion  of  absolute 
liberty !  All  the  ladies  were  in  ecstacies  about  him,  and  envied 
his  wife  the  privilege  of  possessing  him.  She  found  his  plain 
brown  dress  and  his  unpowdered  blonde  hair  perfectly  charm- 
ing, and  looked  rather  contemptuously  upon  the  gold-embroi- 
dered coats,  the  powdered  wigs,  the  swords,  shoes,  and  lace- 
cuffs.  All  of  them  wished  to  be  introduced  to  him,  and  asked 
him  about  the  toilets  of  the  American  ladies,  which  they,  no 
doubt,  intended  to  imitate  in  order  to  participate  also  in  the 
glory  which  our  soldiers  have  obtained  in  that  war.  Even  my 
pious  mistress,  Madame  Adelaide,  is  an  ardent  admirer  of  the 
heroic  Lafayette." 

"  How  I  long  to  see  him ! "  exclaimed  Germaine.  "  How 
gladly  I  should  have  attended  those  festivities  !  Ah,  I  have  to 
undergo  so  many  privations  here." 

"  He  will  no  doubt  call  on  M.  Necker,"  replied  Narbonne ; 
"  for  what  name  could  be  more  agreeable  to  Lafayette's  ears 
than  that  of  your  distinguished  father?" 

"If  we  only  lived  again  in  Paris!"  she  exclaimed.  "But 
now  tell  me  quickly  a  little  about  the  festivities.  What  toilets 
did  the  ladies  wear?  How  did  the  queen  look  ?" 

"  Very  beautiful,  of  course,  *  said  M.  de  Narbonne,  laughing ; 
"  still  I  am  unable  to  answer  this  question  positively.  I,  too, 
was  this  time  so  wanting  in  gnllantry  as  to  have  eyes  only  for 
the  hero  whose  glory  now  fills  all  Paris." 

"  And  yet  you  did  not  wish  to  share  this  glory  ?  "  asked  Ger- 
maine. 

"  Because  I  have  plenty  of  opportunities  here  to  assist  in 


MARRIAGES   DE    CONVEYANCE.  153 

establishing  a  free  constitution,  and  I  am  better  able  to  work 
for  it  with  my  head  than  fight  for  it  with  my  sword." 

"  So  you  still  attend  those  lengthy  lectures  of  M.  Koch,  iu 
spite  of  all  festivities." 

"  I  never  fail  to  do  so,  and  am,  besides,  occupied  in  other 
useful  studies.  I  read  the  German  poets  and  philosophers. 
Do  you  not  wish  to  learn  that  language,  that  we  may  read  these 
authors  together?" 

"  If  it  is  worth  while  to  do  so." 

"Let  me  assure  you  that  it  is.  Charles  the  Fifth  used 
to  say  that  a  man  had  as  many  souls  as  he  spoke  languages, 
and  I  know  what  he  meant.  With  a  new  tongue  we  acquire 
also  new  views  of  life,  and  add  to  our  mental  deyeloprnent." 

"  Will  you  send  me  a  teacher  ?  " 

"  With  great  pleasure." 

There  was  a  pause.  Germaine  looked  absently  before  her, 
while  the  young  man  fixed  his  eyes  on  her,  searchingly. 

At  this  moment  a  carriage  drove  into  the  court-yard. 

"  It  is  the  Grand-Duke ! "  exclaimed  Germaine.  "  I  forgot 
to  tell  you  that  he  had  caused  himself  to  be  announced.  Come 
to  the  salon  that  we  may  be  present  at  his  reception." 

"  I  hoped  to  see  you  alone,"  replied  M.  de  Narbonne.  "  We 
see  plenty  of  celebrities  in  Paris,  and  need  not  come  to  St. 
Ouen  for  that  purpose.  Fate  is  not  propitious  to  me."  He  left 
her  in  evident  vexation. 

Germaine's  eyes  filled  with  tears..  He  knew  that  his  depar- 
ture pained  her,  and  yet  he  did  not  remain.  Should  he  intend 
to  torment  her  ? 

At  this  moment  a  servant  entered  the  room  in  order  to  call 
her  down  stairs. 

Since  Louis  the  Sixteenth  had  dismissed  Necker,  several 
European  princes  had  requested  the  distinguished  financier  to 
7* 


154  MADAME    DE   STAEL. 

enter  their  service ;  and  among  them  was  also  the  Empress 
Catherine.  It  was  in  compliance  with  her  wishes  that  the 
Grand-Duke  visited  him  to-day,  and  repeated  to  him  verbally 
how  glad  the  Empress  would  be  if  he  should  make  up  his 
mind  to  devote  his  talents  to  Russia. 

Necker  received  his  august  visitor  in  his  plain  brown  dress, 
and  with  the  stiff  bearing  which  was  intended  to  impart 
dignity  to  him,  and  listened  gravely  to  the  encomiums  which 
the  Grand-Duke  lavished  on  him ;  but  his  wife  was  deeply 
moved  by  the  homage  which  a  great  princess  paid  to  her  hus- 
band, whom  she  had  never  seen ;  she  turned  pale,  and  finally 
fainted  away.*  Germaine,  who  stood  modestly  by  her  mother's 
side,  supported  her  and  led  her  out  of  the  room. 

Necker  excused  the  accident,  which  he  attributed  to  the  se- 
vere trials  to  which  his  position  had  subjected  the  delicate 
health  of  his  wife.  As  usual,  he  bestowed  upon  her  the  warm- 
est praise,  a  weakness  from  which  he  was  unable  to  abstain, 
despite  the  sneers  of  the  public. 

Germaine  meanwhile  returned  to  her  father,  and  stated  that 
her  mother  was  better ;  and  the  august  visitor  left  soon  after, 
with  the  promise  that  he  would  speedily  repeat  his  visit. 

When  Necker  was  alone  with  his  daughter,  he  paced  the 
room  thoughtfully.  "  It  is  sad,"  he  exclaimed,  "  that  we  are 
appreciated  so  much  better  abroad  than  in  the  country  where 
we  have  settled.  France  has  no  need  of  me.  and  yet  I  cannot 
turn  my  back  on  France." 

"  You  are  a  celebrated  man  ;  all  the  world  admires  you.  I 
should  like  to  be  honored  as  you  are." 

She  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand,  and  gazed  sadly  into  the 
garden. 

"  It  is  made  easy  to  you ;  you  are  my  daughter,"  said  Necker, 
*  "  Memoirs  of  Madame  d'Oberkirch." 


MARRIAGES    DE   CONVEYANCE.  155 

fixing  his  keen  eyes  on  her,  searchingly.  "  Where  you  appear, 
you  are  treated  with  marked  consideration  because  you  bear 
my  name." 

She  sighed.     "  We  lead  a  very  lonely  life,"  she  said. 

"  You  long  for  more  diversions  ?  My  circumstances,  my 
poor  child,  do  not  now  permit  me  to  afford  them  to  you ;  pru- 
dence requires  me  to  live  in  retirement,  and  the  feeble  health 
of  your  mother  does  not  allow  her  to  take  you  into  society  ;  but 
patience,  Germaine,  patience  !  Fate  may  fulfill  your  wishes  in 
another  way." 

Germaine  understood  what  her  father  meant.  She  made  no 
reply,  but  indulged  in  a  reverie,  in  which  M.  de  Narbonne 
played  a  leading  part.  To  step  by  his  side  into  the  world,  to 
bear  a  name  which,  even  at  court,  was  one  of  the  best,  to  walk 
through  life  with  this  fine-looking,  talented,  and  admired  young 
man,  seemed  to  her  the  most  enviable  happiness,  which  a  word 
from  him  might  bestow  upon  her. 

Since  she  had  got  acquainted  with  him  at  Marmontel's  house, 
he  visited  the  villa  of  her  parents  almost  daily,  and  was  on  very 
friendly  terms  with  her  father.  She  believed  she  read  in  his 
eyes  that  he  was  attached  to  her,  but  he  had  never  yet  uttered 
the  word  love  in  his  tete-a-tetes  with  her.  Oftentimes,  when 
she  expected  that  it  would  escape  his  lips,  he  sighed,  rose  and 
left  her  suddenly. 

M.  de  Narbonne  was  ambitious ;  he  had  conceived  bold 
plans  in  regard  to  his  future ;  his  proud  spirit  longed  for  ap- 
preciation, and  he  wished  to  become  the  most  welcome  guest 
in  the  most  brilliant  circles  of  the  capital.  Wealth  alone 
would  not  enable  him  to  attain  his  object.  The  old  nobility 
looked  rather  disdainfully  upon  the  Necker  family,  and  ridi- 
culed it  on  every  occasion.  And  ridicule  is  an  adversary  which 
no  one  is  able  to  withstand. 


156  MADAME   DE   STAEL, 

Gerinaine  had  no  idea  of  it.  She  knew  only  that  she  was 
the  daughter  of  the  illustrious  Necker,  to  whom  emperors  and 
kings  paid  homage ;  she  was  rich,  and  longed  for  splendor 
and  fame. 

Our  desires  do  not  count  the  obstacles  besetting  our  path. 

Her  hours  passed  away  slowly  and  wearily  until  there 
dawned  a  new  day  that  might  lead  the  longed-for  visitor  to 
St.  Oaen.  Gerinaine  sat  again  on  the  balcony,  and  was  gazing 
upon  the  road;  but  the  young  nobleman  did  not  make  his 
appearance. 

The  visits  of  M.  de  Narbonne  had  become  fewer  and  fewer. 
This  seemed  to  bode  no  good  to  her  ardent  hopes.  When  he 
came  back,  Germaine  met  him  in  confusion,  and  dropped  her 
eyes  as  if  conscious  of  guilt.  She  did  not  want  to  tell  him  how 
intensely  she  had  longed  for  him,  as  long  as  he  had  stayed 
away  without  sufficient  reason ;  and,  in  restraining  the  emo- 
tions to  which  his  appearance  gave  rise  in  her  heart,  she 
looked  upon  herself  as  insincere,  and  could  not  find  words 
wherewith  to  address  him. 

M.  de  Narbonne  was  absent,  and  did  not  stay  long.  Gor- 
maine  was  scarcely  able  to  master  her  feelings  while  he  re- 
mained with  her ;  but  when  she  heard  the  sound  of  the  hoofs 
of  his  horse  in  the  court-yard  below,  she  burst  into  tears  and 
hastened  to  her  room,  in  order  to  weep  alone  over  her  disap- 
pointed hopes. 

A  business  affair  led  him  again  more  frequently  to  St.  Ouen 
during  the  following  week.  He  conferred  with  M.  Necker  as 
to  the  establishment  of  a  new  organ  that  was  to  advocate  the 
financial  views  of  the  fallen  statesman;  hence,  the  cause  of 
his  coming  was  by  no  means  gratifying  to  his  daughter,  but 
for  that  matter  she  greatly  rejoiced  over  his  visits.  One  eve- 
ning he  remained  longer  than  usual.  Marmontd  and  his  wife 


MARRIAGES   DE   CONVEYANCE.  157 

had  also  arrived;  Thomas,  who  was  in  feeble  health,  and  ap- 
peared more  rarely  than,  formerly,  had  come  quite  unex- 
pectedly ;  and  some  other  guests  from  Paris  had  surprised  the 
family  with  their  visit  at  a  late  hour.  Germaine  was  exceed- 
ingly merry.  Her  large  eyes  were  radiant,  while  she  took  the 
liveliest  part  in  the  conversation.  She  sang  a  few  songs  h? 
her  fine  sonorous  voice,  and  then  recited  some  passages  from 
the  works  of  the  best  poets.  The  applause  lavished  upon  her 
gladdened  her  the  more  as  it  was  bestowed  upon  her  in  the 
presence  of  the  man  whom  she  longed  most  to  please  by  her 
talents. 

The  conversation  then  turned,  as  usual,  to  the  affairs  of  the 
New  World ;  and,  in  the  first  place,  the  question  was  asked 
what  shape  marriage  would  assume  in  a  free  state  where  all 
classes  were  equal,  and  where  it  would,  therefore,  be  sub- 
ject to  other  conditions  than  in  the  Old  World. 

While  this  question  was  discussed,  Narbonne  remarked  that 
the  French  soldiers  had  found  the  ladies  in  the  Colonies  very 
beautiful. 

"  In  that  case,"  replied  Marmontel,  "  I  wonder  why  our  he- 
roes did  not  lose  their  hearts  there." 

"  Perhaps  they  did,"  replied  Narbonne,  laughing.  "  But 
they  will  not  make  any  confessions  to  us  on  that  subject." 

"  I  should  think,  if  one  of  them  had  really  fallen  in  love 
there,  he  would  have  probably  married  a  beautiful  Puritan  girl 
and  sent  her  home,"  remarked  Madame  Marmontel. 

"  The  ladies  in  the  Colonies  are  educated  too  austerely  to 
play  with  their  faith,"  said  M.  Thomas,  gravely. 

"  You  always  forget,  my  learned  friend,"  said  Marmontel, 
laughing,  "that  the  little  god  does  not  ascertain  one's  religion 
before  he  shoots  his  arrows.  So  the  cause  must  be  sought  in 
another  direction." 


158  MADAME    BE    STAEL. 

"  I  think  it  is  quite  obvious,"  said  Narbonno.  "  Most  of  our 
young  heroes  belong  to  the  first  families  of  France,  and  have 
been  brought  up  in  the  belief  that  marriage  is  a  family  obli- 
gation which  they  have  to  discharge  in  the  face  of  past  and 
coming  generations.  However  frivolous  they  may  be  in  other 
respects,  in  this  matter  they  will  always  act  with  due  delibera- 
tion, and  lend  a  willing  ear  to  the  voice  of  prudence,  which 
tells  them  that  a  union  at  variance  with  conventional  etiquette 
is  a  blunder  which  makes  them  ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of  ihe 
world.  He  who  is  ambitious  enough  to  go  to  the  New  World 
in  search  of  glory,  will  not  destroy  his  achievements  by  intro- 
ducing a  nameless  wife  into  the  circle  of  our  society,  wlieie  she 
would  never  be  treated  as  an  equal  and  with  due  respect.  No 
honorable  man  will  wish  to  subject  a  wife  who  bears  his  name 
to  such  painful  slights." 

Gerinaine  had  listened  attentively  to  Narbonne's  words. 
"While  he  was  speaking,  she  turned  now  red,  now  pale  ;  and 
•when  he  paused,  she  sank  senseless  into  her  chair.  M.  Necker 
hastened  to  her  immediately  in  order  to  restore  her  to  con- 
sciousness. Her  forehead  was  bathed  with  cold  water,  and  she 
was  not  long  in  opening  her  eyes  again.  But  she  called  to 
mind  immediately  what  had  wounded  her  heart  so  deeply,  and 
her  features  indicated  the  intense  grief  which  convulsively 
shook  her  whole  frame.  She  begged  leave  to  withdraw  for  a 
few  moments;  a  walk  through  the  garden  would  do  her  good. 

As  soon  as  she  had  left  the  room,  M.  de  Narbonne  set  out 
for  Paris ;  the  little  circle  moved  closer  together,  and  the  dis- 
turbance which  had  interrupted  the  conversation  for  a  few 
minutes  was  speedily  forgotten. 

When  Germaine  shortly  after  re-entered  the  room  with  a 
soft  step,  and  rejoined  the  circle,  no  one  thought  any  longer  of 
what  had  occurred. 


MARRIAGES   DE   CONVEYANCE.  159 

M.  Necker  had  to  go  early  next  morning  to  Paris,  where  he 
had  promised  to  meet  M.  de  Narbonne  at  the  Cafe  de  Fois. 
In  accordance  with  his  habitual  punctuality,  he  arrived  there 
first. 

As  usual  at  such  places,  Hie  news  of  the  day  was  talked 
over,  and  among  these  topics  was  also  the  marriage  projected 
between  M.  de  Narbonne  and  the  daughter  of  M.  de  Mon- 
tholon,  First  President  of  the  Parliament  of  Rome.  The  young 
lady  had  inherited  a  fortune  of  three  hundred  thousand  livres 
«i  year  from  her  mother's  relatives  in  St.  Domingo,  and  she  was 
said  to  be  highly  accomplished,  but  not  yet  fourteen  years  of 
age. 

Necker  heard  this  intelligence  with  mingled  feelings  of  sur- 
prise. Ho  loved  his  daughter  too  dearly  not  to  watch  atten- 
tively all  that  concerned  her ;  and  so  it  had  not,  escaped  him 
how  her  gifted  mind  had  captivated  M.  de  Narboune,  and  what 
hopes  this  had  awakened  in  her  heart.  On  the  other  hand, 
however,  he  could  not  find  fault  with  the  young  man  for  pre- 
ferring a  union  which  offered  him  so  many  advantages.  Pru- 
dence, therefore,  commanded  M.  Necker  not  to  betray  the  dis- 
appointment which  this  intelligence  caused  him. 

As  M.  Necker  in  all  relations  of  life  always  preferred  a 
straight  course,  he  now  too  went  to  meet  his  young  friend 
with  frank  expression  of  countenance,  and  holding  out  his 
hand  to  him,  said : 

"  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart  on  the  union  into 
which  you  are  about  to  enter,  M.  de  Narbonne  ;  it  would,  how- 
ever, have  been  more  agreeable  to  me  to  receive  the  news  from 
your  own  lips  than  from  those  of  strangers."  , 

M.  de  Narbonne  blushed  deeply,  and  replied,  in  confusion": 

"  I  must  admit  that  I  did  wrong  so  far  as  this  is  concerned, 
and  beg  you  to  feel  convinced  th:il  I  much  regretted  not  to  be 


100  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

able  to  maite  a  confident  of  you.  I  am  unfortunately  not  at 
liberty  to  communicate  to  you  the  reasons  which  prevented 
me  from  doing  so  ;  for  they  would  show  you  how  reluctantly 
I  took  a  step  to  which  I  consented,  not  from  inclination,  but 
from  regard  to  the  wishes  of  my  family." 

"  It  is  always  honorable  for  us  to  listen  to  the  voice  of 
reason,  no  matter  what  our  motive  may  be,"  said  Necker.  lie 
then  passed  to  other  topics,  and  they  parted  in  the  most  cor- 
dial manner. 

On  the  way  home,  Necker  reflected  whether  he  should  com- 
municate to  his  daughter  that  Narbonne  was  about  to  be 
married,  or  whether  it  would  be  better  to  leave  it  to  time  and 
chance  to  make  her  acquainted  with  it.  He  had  not  yet  de- 
termined which  course  to  pursue,  when  Germaine  came  to 
meet  him  at  a  great  distance  from  his  villa. 

"  Alone  and  on  this  deserted  road  ?  "  exclaimed  her  father, 
in  surprise.  "People  will  be  surprised,  I  should  think,  to  see 
Necker's  daughter  here." 

"  I  am  guiltless  of  any  moral  wrong  by  coming  to  meet 
you,"  she  replied,  apologetically. 

"  But  that  is  no  valid  excuse,  my  daughter.  We  cannot  re- 
turn to  the  primeval  forest.  Nor  would  you  like  to  do  so ;  for 
you  are  ambitious,  and  long  to  play  a  brilliant  role  in  the  world. 
But  you  can  never  do  so  if  you  disregard  the  rules  of  conven- 
tional propriety  in  this  manner." 

"I  deem  it  beneath  my  dignity  to  conform  to  such  petty 
rules,  which  my  reason  does  not  recognize." 

"  Because  your  pride  does  not  allow  you  to  do  so,"  said 
Necker,  gravely. 

"  And  yet  these  rules  of  conventional  decorum  have  a  value 
which  neither  your  father's  fame  nor  his  millions  can  supply  to 
you.  They  rule,  and  we  are  subject  to  them." 


MA  RET  AGES    DE    COXVEXAXCE.  161 

"  I  cannot  deny  that  that  is  true  in  many  respects,"  ex- 
claimed Germaine,  throwing  back  her  head  with  an  air  of 
vexation,  "  but  the  more  irresistibly  I  feel  tempted  to  rebel 
against  it." 

"  You  would  only  suffer  the  more.  This  is  unworthy  of 
your  intellect.  I  know  that  you  will  not  find  happiness  in  soli- 
tude ;  you  love  society,  and  long  to  play  a  brilliant  part  in  it. 
Take  pains,  then,  to  please  such  persons  as  might  promote 
your  interests  in  that  sphere.  In  yielding  to  every  caprice, 
and  violating  conventional  etiquette  in  a  thousand  little  ways, 
you  yourself  obstruct  the  path  which  you  long  to  pursue.  No 
young  man  will  dare  to  offer  you  his  hand,  lest  you  should 
compromise  him.  Our  friend  Narbonne,  I  understand,  is 
going  to  marry  a  young  lady,  almost  a  child  yet,  who  has  just 
left  the  convent,  where  she  learned  to  submit  to  the  rules  of 
conventional  decorum." 

"  Are  you  in  earnest?  "  asked  Germaine,  in  surprise. 

"  In  dead  earnest." 

"  Do  you  know  the  girl  whom  he  has  preferred  to  me  ?  " 

"  She  is  a  girl  of  good  family,  wealthy,  and  willing  to  con- 
form to  his  ideas  of  propriety,"  replied  her  father,  sharply. 

Germaine  bowed  her  head  and  uttered  not  a  word.  A 
gnawing  pain  racked  her  heart ;  it  tormented  her  the  more  as 
her  eyes  remained  tearless. 

When  they  reached  St.  Ouen,  she  was  unable  to  leave  the 
carriage  ;  she  was  as  if  paralyzed,  and  had  to  be  carried  to  her 
room.  M.  Necker  sat  at  her  bed  and  held  her  hands.  For 
long  hours  she  lay  motionless,  and  it  was  not  till  long  after 
midnight  that  at  length  her  spasms  gave  way,  and  a  flood  of 
tears  relieved  her  heart. 

In  her  father  she  found  her  best  and  most  affectionate  com- 
forter. The  more  his  daughter  suffered  through  the  world, 


1G2  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

the  greater  was  the  tenderness  with  which  he  treated  her,  and 
he  tried  to  indemnify  her  with  his  love.  Madame  Necker  did 
not  comprehend  his  indulgence  on  this  occasion.  She  was 
disposed  to  be  angry  at  what  he  excused  ;  and  what  attracted 
him  to  his  child,  removed  her  still  more  from  Germaine,  so 
that  mother  and  daughter  seemed  to  be  strangers. 

Henceforth,  Germaine  no  longer  stepped  out  upon  the  bal- 
cony in  order  to  survey  the  road  leading  to  Paris.  Her  health  4 
•was  impaired,  profound  melancholy  had  seized  her,  and  she  sat 
for  hours  with  a  book  in  her  hand  without  reading  a  line  in  it. 
Narbonne  came  to  St.  Ouen  as  usual,  aud  was  received  as  if 
nothing  had  happened.  At  his  first  visit,  Germaine  was  not 
in  the  room,  and  he  dared  not  inquire  after  her.  When  he 
came  the  next  time,  he  found  her  alone.  She  reposed  on  a 
chaise  longue,  the  window  was  open,  and  the  fragrant  odor  of 
the  flowers  penetrated  to  her.  When  he  entered  the  room, 
she  rose  and  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,"  she  said,  kindly.  "  I  hope 
the  new  ties  which  bind  you  will  not  cause  you  to  forget  yoiir 
old  friends." 

He  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  said  with  deep  emotion  : 
"  I  shall  know  how  to  be  worthy  of  your  friendship." 
He  then  seated  himself  by  her  side,  and  uttered  not  a  word 
for  a  long  time. 


CHAPTER  in. 

THE    HERO  OF  THE  AMERICAN  WAR. 

Two  young  cavaliers,  whose  prepossessing  appearance  and 
proud  bearing  attracted  the  attention  of  most  of  the  passers-by, 
walked  one  morning  arm-in-arm  through  the  galleries  of  the 
Palais  Royal.  They  were  engaged  in  an  animated  conversa- 
tion, and  paid  no  attention  to  what  was  going  on  around 
them ;  finally  they  entered  the  restaurant  of  the  famous 
Fevrier,  whose  culinary  skill  was  far-famed  at  that  time. 

No  sooner  had  they  seated  themselves  at  a  small  table  in  a 
distant  corner  of  the  room,  than  a  tall,  slender  gentleman, 
round  whose  finely  chiseled  lips  played  a  gracious  smile, 
passed  by  the  window,  recognized  the  two  cavaliers,  and,  ut- 
tering an  "  Ah  !  "  of  surprise,  entered  the  room  and  approached 
them. 

The  younger  of  the  two  cavaliers  had  jumped  up  and  has- 
tened to  meet  him.  "  Condorcet,  is  it  you  ? "  he  exclaimed, 
holding  out  his  hands  to  him.  "  How  glad  I  am  to  meet  you 
this  very  day  !  JVly  heart  is  so  full  of  the  New  World  that  I 
was  almost  disposed  to  forget  our  old  institutions,  until,  now 
that  I  have  returned  to  France,  they  began  to  weigh  me  down 
as  heavily  as  before.  Ah !  Condorcet,  when  I  call  to  mind 
the  enchanting  dreams  in  which  you  indulged,  and  which  car- 
ried my  youthful  imagination  to  the  highest  pitch  of  enthusi- 
asm, my  heart  still  throbs  proudly  and  exultingly.  And  now,' 
that  I  have  helped  a  foreign  nation  to  conquer  what  we  in 
France  are  not  even  permitted  to  long  for  in  our  dreams,  I 


10^  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

stand  again  on  my  native  soil,  and  am  at  a  loss  to  know  what 
to  do." 

"Patience,  Vicorate,  patience!  you  will  certainly  find  your 
place  here,  too,"  replied  Condorcet,  with  a  smile,  slightly 
tinged  with  sarcasm.  "Permit  me,  however,  to  pay  my  re- 
spects to  M.  de  Narbonue,  before  requesting  you  to  gladden 
my  heart  by  relating  to  me  events  from  which  a  member  of 
the  renowned  Academy  is  as  remote  as  the  prince  of  hell  is 
'from  the  fields  of  the  blessed." 

"  Why  did  you  not  follow"  us  ?  "  said  the  young  hero  of  the 
American  war.  "  Why  did  you  stick  to  your  old  folios,  and 
hold  intercourse  with  dust  and  mould  while  we  were  driukiug 
from  the  cup  of  life  ?  " 

"  In  order  not  to  get  intoxicated,  Vicomte,"  replied  Condor- 
cet, laughing.  "  In  order  not  to  awake  as  you  have  now 
awaked.  In  order  not  to  feel  with  still  greater  bitterness  how 
difficult  it  is  to  endure  the  thraldom  of  traditions  which  we 
have  inherited  simultaneously  with  original  sin." 

"  As  usual,  your  colors  are  somewhat  too  gloomy,"  inter- 
posed M.  de  Narbonne,  smiling.  "  Permit  me  to  reply  that 
our  condition  is  by  no  means  as  hopeless  as  you  represent  it. 
In  my  opinion,  there  was  no  need  for  us  to  fight  in  another 
hemisphere  for  rights  which  we  may  obtain  here,  provided  we 
are  earnestly  determined  to  do  so.  There  is  in  France  repub- 
licanism enough  to  convert  our  country,  if  not  into  a  Republic, 
at  least  into  a  constitutional  State ;  and  that  is  the  object 
•which  \ve  should  strive  to  attain.  I  remained  at  home  in 
order  to  serve  my  country  in  this  direction.  To  be  sure,  this 
sacrifice  which  I  made,  met  with  a  very  sorry  reward.  Young 
Segur  was  preferred  to  me,  because  he  fought  in  the  Colonies ; 
and  the  defender  of  the  rights  of  rebels,  although  scarcely  out 
of  his  teens,  was  sent  to  St.  Petersburg  in  order  to  officiate 


TUB    HERO    OF    THE    AMEEICAX    \VAE.  1G5 

there  as  the  representative  of  royal  prerogatives.  In  such  a 
singular  manner  diplomacy  plays  with  its  own  interests." 

"  Segur  was  preferred  to  you,  owing  to  his  father's  influ- 
ence," replied  Coudorcet.  "  As  Minister  of  War,  he  has  a 
great  deal  of  influence  over  the  King  •  and  those  who  know 
how  to  profit  by  the  most  favorable  moment,  are  always  able 
to  manage  his  Majesty." 

"It  was  not  owing  to  that  influence  alone,  but  also  to  the 
charm  surrounding  these  champions  of  liberty,"  replied  Nar- 
bonne,  gravely.  "  In  the  years  of  their  absence  from  France, 
they  have  assumed  a  bearing  which  we  both  admire  and 
envy.  What  makes  us  drop  our  eyes  reverentially,  seems 
no  longer  imposing  to  them ;  they  look  every  man,  no  matter 
what  his  rank  may  be,  boldly  and  joyously  in  the  face, 
and  their  air  indicates  that  they  consider  themselves  his  equals. 
This  boldness  charms  us.  Mankind  always  submitted  to  cour- 
age ;  he  who  wants  to  rule,  has  only  to  assume  an  air  of 
independence,  and  he  has  already  won  half  a  victory.  The 
prince  of  the  royal  family,  the  most  ancient  nobility,  are  bow- 
ing to  heroes  who  mercilessly  trample  their  prerogatives  under 
foot.  They  are  ashamed  of  their  titles  and  dignities  in  the 
presence  of  a  Lafayette,  who  has  gained  a  civic  crown,  and 
donned  the  plain  dress  of  a  commoner,  which  our  powdered 
and  richly-attired  courtiers  contemplate  with  unfeigned  aston- 
ishment. A  hermit  could  scarcely  look  more  plainly  dressed 
in  their  midst  than  the  victors  of  Yorktown." 

"  The  picture  you  have  just  drawn  is  applicable  to  me,  too," 
interposed  Montmorency,  crimsoning  and  glancing  at  his  black 
dress.  "  In  the  last  few  years  I  have  become  so  thoroughly 
accustomed  to  the  comfort  of  wearing  my  hair  in  its  natural 
state,  and  of  dressing  in  a  plain  coat,  that  at  my  age  I  think  I 
am  no  longer  fitted  for  the  stiff  court  costume." 


100  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

"  Of  course,  when  one  is  twenty-five  years  old,  and  lias  seen 
the  New  World,  one  is  no  longer  a  child,"  replied  Coudorcet, 
with  a  smiling  glance  at  Montmorency. 

"  I  do  not  care  if  you  laugh  at  my  youth,"  exclaimed  the 
young  man,  merrily.  "  I  am  not  ashamed  of  it.  Besides,  it  is 
an  evil  which  improves  every  dav.  And  now,  when  the  present 
leaves  so  many  wishes  unfulfilled,  my  eye  has  need  of  this  far- 
extending  view  of  the  future,  lest  I  should  despair  of  my 
country.  I  say  to  myself  daily,  "  What  we  have  not  yet 
achieved,  we  may  obtain  hereafter.  I  am  young  enough  to  live 
and  see  the  day  when  my  beautiful  France  will  likewise  raise 
liberty-poles,  and  erect  altars  to  the  rights  of  man." 

"  In  order  to  immolate  on  them  the  descendants  of  the  an- 
cient house  of  Montmorency,"  interposed  Condorcet.  "Ah, 
Vicomte,  you  do  not  suspect  what  a  storm  you  conjure  up  by 
your  enthusiasm  over  your  own  head !  To  mould  one's  own 
destiny  is  more  difficult  than  you  believe  ;  to  be  indebted  only 
to  one's  own  merits  for  honor,  fame,  and  popularity,  is  a  task 
requiring  extraordinary  strength." 

"  But  imparting  strength,  too,"  exclaimed  the  young  man, 
enthusiastically.  "  Young  as  I  am,  I  am  able  to  feel  how  the 
sense  of  our  worth  grows  with  the  deeds  which  we  have  per- 
formed. I  do  not  want  to  feed  any  more  on  the  glory  of  my 
ancestors,  allow  myself  to  be  honored  because  they  bore  the 
same  name  before  me,  date  my  merits  from  the  tombs,  and  ex- 
claim, "  Look  at  the  dust  which  was  once  called  Montmor- 
ency ;  and  I  swear  by  God  and  all  the  saints  that  no  Montmor- 
*  ency  shall  henceforth  do  so  any  more ! " 
/  "  Vicomte,"  replied  Condorcet,  gazing  at  the  young  man 
with  an  expression  of  growing  satisfaction ;  "  you  have 
learned  a  great  deal  in  a  very  short  time;  yes,  I  must  confess 
that  you  have  learned  more  than  I  thought  a  Montmoreucy 


THE    HKIIO    OF   THE    AMEIUCAN   WAR.  107 

would  ever  comprehend.  Here  is  my  band!  We  must  be 
friends.  Tbe  dreams  with  which  you  charged  me  before  are 
neither  buried  nor  forgotten.  There  are  other  men  who  dream 
with  me,  and  with  them  you  shall  now  get  acquainted.  We 
have  not  stood  still  since  you  did  not  see  us.  The  torch  which 
you  caused  to  illuminate  another  hemisphere  has  shed  its  rays  as 
far  as  France  There  are  even  now  in  France  as  many  men  as 
there  are  subjects.  And  that  we  have  likewise  already  learned 
to  pay  homage  to  merit  without  regard  to  the  ancestors  of  him 
whom  we  honor,  is  shown  by  Necker's  great  popularity." 

"  Whose  downfall  the  court  party  brought  about  because  ho 
did  not  belong  to  an  ancient  family,"  interrupted  the  young 
man,  warmly. 

"  You  must  not  judge  too  rashly,"  replied  Condorcet,  calmly. 
"  It  is  true,  he  lost  his  office,  but  not  his  influence.  It  waa 
because  the  people  idolized  him  that  the  nobility  hated  and 
feared  Necker,  and  the  King  treated  him  so  respectfully  and 
leniently.  Do  you  not  perceive  the  immense  progress  which 
this  fact  indicates?  What  would  it  have  been  under  another 
King  of  a  Minister  of  Finance  bold  enough  to  dictate  wise 
economy  to  the  King  and  his  court  ?  He  would  at  least  have 
been  hung." 

"  At  least,"  repeated  M.  de  Montmorency,  "  what  else  might 
have  happened  to  him  ?  But  you  are  right.  That  this  man, 
who  deserved  to  be  a  citizen  of  the  United  States,  was  not 
deprived  of  his  life  and  liberty,  is  a  great  homage  paid  to  pub- 
lic opinion." 

"  Such  as  France  never  knew  before,"  said  Condorcet ;  "  and 
on  this  ground  we  must  build ;  we  must  strive  to  add  to  the 
power  of  this  voice,  in  order  to  bring  about  through  it  the 
triumph  of  true  humanity.  Do  you  see  now  that  we  have  some- 
thing to  do  here  too,  and  will  you  lend  us  your  assistance  ?  " 


108  MADAME    DE   STAEL. 

"  Condorcet,  I  embrace  you  for  the  spark  which  you  have 
thrown  into  my  soul,"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  folding  him 
to  his  heart.  li  Now  I  suddenly  behold  the  dawn  of  a  new 
clay  through  the  gloom  that  precedes  it.  Where  is  Necker  ? 
Take  me  to  him ;  he  is  the  only  man  in  France  whose  acquain- 
tance I  long  to  make." 

"  Before  calling  on  him,  read  his  Compte  Rendu,  in  order  to 
familiarize  yourself  with  his  views.  Besides,  he  would  hardly 
forgive  you  for  overlooking  in  America  the  appearance  of  his 
great  book." 

"  What  a  clever  sarcasm ! "  exclaimed  Narbonne,  laughing. 

"  Then  you  must  not  look  for  an  enthusiastic  devotion  to 
mere  ideas  in  this  financier,  who,  with  all  the  respectability  of 
his  character  and  incorruptible  honesty,  is  intent  only  on  re- 
storing the  equilibrium  of  the  budget,  and  pursues  the  same 
course  in  regard  to  every  virtue  and  right.  Everything  in  life 
must  receive  what  is  due  to  it,  and  no  more ;  for,  if  he  gave 
too  much  here,  there  would  remain  too  little  there ;  if  lie  gave 
both  hands  to  one  friend,  he, could  not  hold  out  a  third  to  an- 
other ;  if  he  spoke  too  warm  a  word  here,  there  might  arise  in 
consequence  a  deficit  in  his  heart,  by  which  somebody  else 
might  have  to  suffer.  In  short,  M.  Necker  take?  pains  to  re- 
semble the  good  God  as  much  as  possible.  Not  a  scintilla  of 
blame  could  be  adduced  against  him.  There  is  in  his  infalli- 
bility something  humiliating  for  other  mortals  to  whom  some 
human  weaknesses  still  cling,  and  the  consequence  is  that  he 
is  esteemed  and  admired,  but  shunned  by  most  people." 

"  He  never  made  that  impression  on  me,"  interposed  Nar- 
bonne,  quickly.  "  I  see  him  almost  daily,  and  constantly  be- 
come more  attached  to  him.  It  is  so  seldom  that  we  meet  a 
man,  who,  entirely  free  from  self-interest,  serves  and  promotes 
the  good  only  for  its  own  sake." 


TUB    HERO    OF   THE   AMERICAN   WAR.  109 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  replied  Condorcct,  eyeing  the  speaker  Avith  a 
significant  smile.  "  In  that  case  I  strike  my  sails,  M.  de  Nar- 
bonne,  and  leave  it  to  my  young  friend  to  form  his  own  opin- 
ions at  his  interviews  with  the  celebrated  financier.  But  let 
rne  previously  whisper  a  little  warning  into  his  ear.  Necker 
has  a  daughter.  The  young  lady,  Vicomte,  might  succeed  in 
misleading  your  opinion  of  her  father,  as  she  has  already  done 
with  others.  In  that  case  I  need  not  expect  that  you  will  in- 
dorse what  I  have  said  about  Necker." 

This  remark  rather  disconcerted  M.  de  Narbonne;  however, 
he  was  not  long  in  regaining  his  composure. 

"  You  never  liked  Necker,  Condorcet, "  he  said,  with  seem- 
ing equanimity.  "  His  system  of  economy  did  not  agree  with 
your  nature ;  you  looked  upon  this  thrifty  management  of  our 
finances  as  rather  undignified;  you  regarded  his  views  as  too 
sober,  and  found  fault  with  the  rough  common  sense  of  the 
Genevan  parvenu.  Oh,  I  remember  it  all  very  well.  Your 
opinion  has  misled  me,  and  I  hesitated  a  long  time  to  get  ac- 
quainted with  the  illustrious  Necker,  until  finally  an  accident 
brought  me  in  contact  with  him." 

"And  showed  you  that  I  had  misrepresented  Necker.  I 
suppose  these  words  were  wanting  to  what  you  said  just 
now  ? " 

"  They  were,  indeed.  I  discovered  how  unjust  it  is  to  judge 
others  by  comparing  them  with  ourselves.  Believe  me,  Con- 
dorcet, it  does  not  matter  much  in  the  long  run  by  what  route 
we  arrive  at  the  goal,  provided  this  goal  is  worth  the  pains  we 
have  taken  to  reach  it.  When  a  man.  devotes  his  life  to  the 
welfare  of  humanity,  we  do  not  find  fault  with  him  if  he 
chooses  a  stony  path  leading  to  that  aim.  I  wish  you  would 
become  more  intimately  acquainted  with  Necker,  in  order  to 

get  a  better  opinion  of  him." 

8 


1  70  MADAME    DE    STAKL. 

"  I  certainly  do  him  justice,"  replied  Condorcet.  "  Maurcpas, 
the  old  minister,  called  him  1V  Spine;'  but  I  have  christeued 
him  '  le  ge/iie  male'  which  certainly  does  not  displease  him  ;  for 
he  believes  in  himself  as  in  another  Saviour,  and  his  wife  and 
daughter  encourage  him  in  this  lamentable  infatuation." 

"  Why  lamentable  ?  "  interrupted  Narbouue.  "  He  who  does 
not  believe  in  himself  will  hardly  ever  obtain  much  influence 
over  others.  The  great  Washington,  no  doubt,  never  had  a 
poor  opinion  of  himself,  and  he  is  the  only  man  with  whom 
Necker  can  be  compared." 

"  As  regards  disinterestedness,  I  admit  you  are  right,"  re- 
plied Coudorcet.  But  otherwise,  a  certain  modesty  always 
graces  the  truly  great  man.  However,  let  us  not  quarrel 
about  it.  However  great  his  merits  may  be,  they  are  only 
those  of  an  in  dividual, -mortal  like  all  of  us.  The  really  im- 
portant service  which  he  has  rendered  to  our  country,  is  the 
victory  which  he  caused  public  opinion  to  achieve  over  the 
State  and  Church.  The  people  has  learned,  and  the  King  has 
not  forgotten,  that  these  thousands  of  voices  which  cheered  and 
applauded  him  have  a  powerful  sound ;  and  this  power,  tested 
as  it  has  been  on  this  occasion,  promises  us  a  great  deal." 

"But  we  still  have  need  of  Necker  in  order  to  obtain  it," 
said  Narbonne.  "He  was  courageous  enough  to  utter  what 
we  thought,  and  this  courage  entitles  him  to  our  admiration." 

"  Which  I  am  ready  and  willing  to  render  to  him,"  said 
Condorcet,  smiling.  "  Only  I  do  not  want  to  make  a  demi-god 
of  him.  He  is,  moreover,  already  too  prosperous.  Wealth, 
honor,  and  fame,  all  the  blessings  of  this  earth  have  been  be- 
stowed upon  him;  and,  besides,  fate  placed  in  his  daughter  the 
most  gifted  creature  on  earth  by  his  side.*  She  possesses  all 
those  qualities  which  are  wanting  to  her  father — imagination, 
*  "  Memoirs  tie  Coudorcet." 


TIIK    IIEIIO    OF    THE    AMERICAN   WAR.  171 

fervor,  and  enthusiasm — a  genius  embracing  heaven  and  earth. 
Curried  aud  lifted  up  by  her,  Necker  would  be  capable  of  sur- 
passing himself.  These  remarks  about  Necker's  daughter 
show  you,  M.  de  Narbonne,  that  I  can  be  just,  and,  as  a  gen- 
eral thing,  it  is  difficult  for  us  men  to  be  so  in  regard  to 
women,"  he  added,  smilingly. 

"  M'lle  Necker  does  not  know  that  you  admire  her  so  ar- 
dently," replied  Narbonne,  "  and  she  is  unfortunately  too  affec- 
tionate a  daughter  to  forgive  you  for  preferring  her  to  her 
father.  You  must  get  acquainted  with  her,  Montmorency. 
She  likes  to  give  the  reins  to  her  ardent  imagination,  and,  if 
you  like,  will  dream  the  most  beautiful  dreams  with  you." 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  Narboime,  I  should  like  better  to 
form  the  acquaintance  of  her  father,  and  become  his  friend," 
replied  the  young  man.  "  I  must  cling  in  my  life-path  to  a 
great  and  noble  character  that  would  give  to  my  being  a  cer- 
tain stability,  and  prevent  it  from  going  astray  too  often.  I 
have  entirely  unlearned  in  the  New  World  to  feel  at  ease  in 
female  circles.  To  flirt  and  chat  with  women  reminds  me  of 
the  court  of  Sardanapalus.  The  welfare  of  my  country  and 
the  happiness  of  millions — they  are  the  stars  to  which  I  intend 
to  devote  my  strength ;  where  they  beam  on  me,  there  is  rny 
happiness." 

"  You  have  returned  to  us  with  a  joyous  and  hopeful  heart, 
my  young  Brutus,"  said  Condorcet,  with  his  peculiar  smile, 
which  now,  however,  was  not  free  from  an  expression  of 
heartfelt  emotion  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  fine  intellectual 
face  of  the  young  man.  "  Thank  God  that  you  are  still  able  to 
entertain  such  sentiments.  May  you  retain  your  noble  enthu- 
siasm and  courage  for  many  years  to  come !  I  should  dislike 
to  make  you  prematurely  sober  and  prudent ;  but  I  think  the 
acquaintance  of  our  old  financier  will  do  you  no  harm ;  for 


172  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

under  his  wings,  as  under  those  of  an  old  hen,  gather  all  hia 
young  political  sympathizers,  and  his  house  is  the  rendezvous 
of  half  the  world." 

"  I  was  told  that  he  lived  in  retirement  at  St.  Ouen  !" 

"  The  road  to  that  place  is  open  to  everybody,  and,  besides, 
he  may  return  any  day  to  his  post." 

"  We  shall  see  him  to-night  at  '  Figaro's  Wedding,'  "  said 
Narbonne.  "  I  shall  then  take  you  to  his  box." 

Necker  had  of  late  been  often  at  the  theatre,  in  order  to  divert 
his  daughter.  He  felt  that  her  life  by  the  side  of  her  sick 
mother,  and  her  father,  who  was  mostly  very  busy,  was  by  far 
too  austere  for  a  young  girl,  and  he  was  fearful  lest  her  loneli- 
ness should  add  to  her  proneness  to  melancholy,  and  cause 
her  to  live  in  a  world  of  dreams,  which  estranged  her  more  and 
more  from  reality.  So  he  often  prevailed  on  her  to  read  scien- 
tific works;  and  since  she  had  met  with  the  bitter  disappoint- 
ment which  Narbonne's  marriage  with  another  girl  had  caused 
to  her,  he  took  pains  to  occupy  himself  a  great  deal  with  her, 
and  watched  her  with  the  most  affectionate  solicitude. 

Count  de  Montmorency  was  not  long  in  ingratiating  himself 
with  Necker,  upon  whom  his  prepossessing  appearance  and 
frank  and  open  bearing  made  a  very  favorable  impression.  This 
favorable  opinion  was  much  enhanced  when  Montmorencj'',  in 
the  course  of  his  frequent  visits,  assumed  a  tone  of  reverence, 
mingled  with  familiarity  and  confidence,  which  imparted  some- 
thing filial  to  his  relationship  with  the  experienced  statesman, 
and  which  was  very  agreeable  to  Necker.  Necker's  wife,  too, 
was  churmed  with  the  unaffected  courtesy  of  the  young  aris- 
tocrat, and  treated  him  with  groat  distinction. 

'Germuine  did  not  indicate  in  any  manner  that  he  had  made 
a  particular  impression  on  her.  Inasmuch  as  M.  de  Montmor- 
ency bestowed  upon  her  only  such  attentions  as  were  neces- 


THE   HERO    OF  THE   AMERICAN   WAR.  173 

sary  and  unavoidable,  and  did  not  seek  her  company,  she  had 
little  reason  to  feel  flattered  at  his  conduct,  and  often  shunned 
his  presence  intentionally. 

She  now  wrote  a  great  deal,  and  what  she  wrote  seemed  to 
engross  all  her  thoughts. 

As  it  was  Necker's  habit,  whenever  an  idea  which  he  wished 
to  communicate  to  others  occurred  to  him,  to  hasten  to  the 
salon  in  order  to  inform  his  wife  or  his  daughter  of  it,  and  dis- 
liked to  see  that  his  sudden  appearance  interrupted  them  in 
their  occupations,  his  wife  had  accustomed  herself  to  write 
standing.  As  soon  as  the  door  opened,  she  quietly  laid  down 
her  pen  and  feigned  to  be  entirely  unoccupied. 

Germaine  had  learned  from  her  mother  to  conform  to  these 
little  peculiarities  of  her  father.  Her  writing-desk  stood  on 
the  mantel-piece,  and  she  quickly  set  clown  there  whatever  she 
wished  to  remember. 

In  the  forenoon  they  were  generally  alone.  The  nervous 
sufferings  of  her  mother  could  be  relieved  only  by  warm  baths, 
and  the  use  of  them  occupied  the  forenoon.  Madame  Necker, 
moreover,  now  liked  to  be  alone.  The  death  of  her  friend 
Thomas  had  afflicted  her  heart  deeply,  and  for  a  long  time  she 
was  unable  to  recover  from  this  terrible  blow.  The  loss  of  her 
faithful  old  friend,  to  whom  she  could  confide  everything  that 
occupied  her  mind,  caused  a  most  painful  gap  in  her  life,  and 
the  idea  of  her  own  death  engrossed  all  her  thoughts. 

M.  de  Narbonne  presented  his  young  wife  to  the  Necker 
family.  "  I  know  that  she  cannot  become  a  companion  of 
yours,"  he  said  to  Germaine;  "but  still  I  wished  to  make  you 
acquainted  with  her,  for  she  admires  you  sincerely." 

There  was  no  need  of  this  appeal.  Germaine  embraced  her 
tenderly ;  and  looked  with  mournful  sympathy  at  the  young 
creature,  who  in  her  presence  seemed  more  child-like  than  ever. 


174  MADAME    DE    STAEi. 

"  I  wonder  if  she  suspects  how  much  reason  I  have  to  envy 
her,"  she  said  to  herself. 

At  a  late  hour  one  evening,  Narbonne  and  Montmorency 
called  upon  Necker  in  order  to  converse  with  him  on  the 
Litest  political  events,  and  especially  on  the  financial  opera- 
tions of  Minister  Calonne,  which  had  created  the  greatest  sen- 
sation throughout  France.  Inasmuch  as  there  were  no  other 
guests,  Necker  remained  with  his  young  friends  in  the  salon, 
where  they  chatted  in  the  presence  of  his  daughter  about  the 
political  condition  of  France.  Germaine  soon  took  a  lively 
part  in  the  conversation;  and  M.  de  Montmorency,  who  had 
never  before  heard  her  discuss  such  grave  subjects,  was  sur- 
prised to  see  that  she  surpassed  her  father  by  her  brilliant  elo- 
quence, and  the  profound  views  which  she  took  of  every  ques- 
tion. He  involuntarily  grew  silent,  while  his  eyes  and  ears 
hung  upon  her  lips.  Narbonne  noticed  it. 

"  Did  you  find  it  out  now  ?  "  he  whispered  to  him,  casting  a 
significant  glance  on  Germaine,  who  overheard  his  words. 

"  Find  out  what  ?  "  she  asked,  blushing. 

"  Tour  extraordinary  abilities,"  said  Narbonne. 

"Alas!"  she  replied,  sighing.  "  They  are  of  no  use  to  a 
woman.  Men  love  in  us  only  ordinary  qualities." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A    DISAPPOINTMENT. 

DECKER'S  daughter  sat  to-day  again  on  the  balcony  of  her 
father's  villa,  and  gazed  out  upon  the  road.  A  solitary  horse- 
man came  in  sight;  he  recognized  her  already  at  a  distance, 
and  indicated  by  his  salutation  that  he  looked  for  a  cordial 
welcome.  Her  eyes  followed  him  as  he  threw  the  reins  c 
horse  to  the  groom  in  the  court-yard  below,  and  then  hastily 
ascended  the  staircase. 

"I  have  occupied  myself  with  you,  M.  de  Montmorency," 
laying  down  a  manuscript.  "  Your  diary  has  interested  me  ex- 
ceedingly. I  have  seen  the  great  Washington  with  your  eyes, 
and  fought  with  you  for  a  great  cause.  How  even  this  echo 
of  glorious  deeds  expands  our  soul '. " 

"History  records  such  deeds  everywhere,"  replied  the  young 
man,  seating  himself  by  her  side ;  "  but,  it  is  true,  our  individual 
feelings  heighten  or  lessen  the  impression  which  they  make 
upon°us.  We,  for  instance,  have  bowed  for  centuries  to 
the  will  of  a  single  man,  and  paid  homage  to  the  merit  o 
ancient  names;  it  is  then  an  entirely  new  phase  for  us  to  co- 
operate with  a  nation  which  has  renounced  all  traditions,  and 
obeys  only  its  own  will.  Who  knows  but  people  may  long  one 
day  as  intensely  for  our  monarchial  institutions  as  we  are  now 

tired  of  them."  ( 

"Impossible!"  cried  Germaine,  vehemently.     ' 
like  mysdf,  silver  in  cousequenceoftliL-.se  prejudices,  and  have 


176  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

to  sacrifice  to  them  the  happiness  of  their  whole  youth,  cannot 
conceive  such  an  idea." 

Montmorency  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  and,  withal,  inqui- 
ringly. She  grew  confused. 

"  You  bear  an  old  name ;  hence  you  do  not  comprehend 
what  I  mean,"  she  said.  "  Your  position  was  assigned  to  you 
at  your  very  birth ;  that  of  my  father  was  a  work  of  time,  and 
clue  to  his  surpassing  merits.  These  cannot  be  handed  down 
from  father  to  child.  So  I  have  to  obtain  a  position  in  society 
by  my  own  efforts.  How  am  I  to  proceed  in  doing  so  ?  " 

"A  lady  obtains  a  position  in  society  through  her  husband," 
exclaimed  M.  de  Montmorency. 

"Not  every  man  is  courageous  enough  to  demand  for  his 
wife  the  place  that  is  due  to  her,"  replied  Germaine,  gravely ; 
"  and  several  events  have  shown  but  very  recently  how  in- 
tolerant the  most  aristocratic  circles  of  society  are.  Marriage 
is  to  be  a  strictly  conventional  matter,  and  love  is  to  be  utterly 
disregarded,  lest  new  blood  should  mingle  with  that  of  the  old 
families." 

M.  de  Montmorency  was  about  to  reply,  but  he  suddenly 
stopped  short  a»d  paced  the  room  uneasily  and  \rresolutely. 
He  then  seated  himself  opposite  to  Germaine,  took  up  his  diary, 
and  said  :  "  Did  you  read  it  through  ?  " 

This  question  showed  her  that  he  wished  to  change  the  sub- 
ject of  conversation,  and  she  helped  him  to  do  so. 

Since  that  evening  on  which  her  gifted  mind  had  first  sur- 
prised him  so  greatly,  he  had  taken  pains  to  get  better  ac- 
quainted with  her,  and  had  often  conversed  with  her  alone. 
Both  of  them  were  of  an  age  when  such  tete-d-tetes  easily  led 
to  greater  familiarity.  What  they  felt  and  thought  was  re- 
flected in  each  other's  souls,  and  every  agreement  in  this  di- 
rection led  to  new  communications. 


A   DIS APPOINT A1KNT.  177 

Keeker  watched  with  grave  eyes  this  growing  familiarity, 
which,  as  yet,  bore  only  the  name  of  friendship.  If  any  man 
at  court  was  capable  of  rising  above  the  prevailing  prejudices, 
and  of  becoming  Necker's  son-in-law,  this  courage  might  be 
looked  for  in  the  young  cavalier  who  had  made  such  heavy 
sacrifices  to  the  cause  of  liberty.  So  he  determined  to  wait 
and  see  what  would  happen. 

Both  of  them  now  went  down  to  the  garden,  where  they 
met  Necker,  who  had  just  returned  from  a  walk. 

"  My  daughter  caused  me  to  take  my  walk  alone  to-day, 
because  she  awaited  you,"  said  Necker,  after  saluting  his 
young  friend.  "  I  might  become  jealous  of  you ;  for,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  am  quite  spoiled  in  this  respect,"  he  added, 
jestingly. 

At  these  words-,  Germaine  clung  affectionately  to  his  arm. 

"  My  dear,  kind  father !  "  she  exclaimed,  tenderly.  "  You 
will  always  hold  the  first  place  in  my  heart.  Who  could  love 
me  as  you  love  me  ?  Your  wishes,  your  will,  always  will  be 
my  supreme  law,  and  never  shall  I  seek  for  a  happiness  that 
you  do  not  approve." 

"  Thus  speaks  a  dutiful  daughter ! "  said  Necker,  jocularly. 
"  Sons  are  not  always  so  obedient,  M.  de  Moutmorency.  The 
young  men  of  our  limes  begin  to  pursue  a  course  solely  dicta- 
ted by  their  own  judgment." 

"  I  do  not  approve  these  innovations,"  said  the  young  man, 
gravely.  "  The  freer  a  state,  the  greater  must  be  the  deference 
paid  to  parents  and  superiors.  Never  should  I  be  capable  of 
taking  a  step  at  which  my  mother  would  take  umbrage.  She 
has  watched  over  my  childhood  with  so  much  solicitude,  that 
I  certainly  owe  her  tbis  consideration  now  that  she  has  grown 
old.  No  matter  how  difficult  it  may  be  for  me  to  sacrifice  my 
dearest  wishes  to  her  peculiar  notions,  I  am  satisfied  that  my 


178  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

own  conscience  will  amply  reward  me  in  course  of  time  for 
the  struggle  which  I  ana  undergoing  now." 

He  paused  and  looked  thoughtfully  before  him.  Germaine 
leaned  her  head  on  her  father's  breast.  Something  told  her 
that  these  words  decided  her  fate. 

All  three  of  them  returned  in  silence  to  the  house. 

Visitors  had  arrived  in  the  meantime.  While  Germaiue 
devoted  herself  to  the  guests,  she  noticed  that  M.  de  Mont- 
morency  fixed  his  eyes  on  her  with  a  certain  mournful  ten- 
derness. 

Henceforth  his  conduct  toward  her  grew  even  more  cordial, 
and  he  visited  her  even  more  frequently  than  before ;  but  at 
the  same  time  he  blamed  her  frankly  and  openly  whenever  he 
thought  she  was  doing  wrong,  and  especially  he  often  censured 
her  conduct  toward  her  mother,  whose  cold,  systematic  ways 
often  provoked  the  rebellious  spirit  of  the  daughter. 

When  Germaine  was  alone,  she  now  frequently  shed  tears ; 
and  when  her  father  asked  her  what  grieved  her,  she  replied : 

"  Life  gives  me  so  little  satisfaction." 

He  made  no  reply,  for  he  knew  full  well  that  words  would 
not  change  her  present  state  of  mind.  However,  he  had  the 
happiness  of  his  child  too  much  at  heart  not  to  try  to  devise 
ways  and  means  by  which  he  might  give  her  relief.  Solitude 
and  tranquillity  were  unsuitable  for  her  nature.  She  had  to 
live  in  a  certain  excitement,  and,  whatever  she  might  do,  she 
had  to  do  it  passionately  and  impetuously ;  violent  conflicts, 
breathless  expectations  of  the  coming  minute,  did  her  good. 
To  play  a  role  in  society  was  the  only  task  for  which  she  was 
fitted.  He  took  his  steps  in  accordance  with  this  convic- 
tion. 

One  morning  he  surprised  her  at  an  unusually  early  hour  in 
the  Ki'on,  where  she  stood  at  the  mantel-pirn1  and  wrote  very 


A   DISAPPOINTMENT.  IT 9 

rapidly.  She  was  so  much  absorbed  in  her  occupation  that 
she  had  not  noticed  his  entrance;  and  when  she  saw  him  now, 
she  hurriedly  cast  aside  her  pen,  blushing,  and  in  confusion  at 
having  been  surprised  in  this  manner. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  what  you  are  writing,"  said  her  father, 
approaching  her.  "  Will  you  let  me  see  your  manuscript  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  ask  such  a  question  ?  "  she  replied,  handing 
the  manuscript  to  him. 

He  sat  down  in  an  arm-chair  and  turned  over  the  manu- 
script. 

Meanwhile  her  eyes  rested  on  him  expectingly. 

The  contents  began  to  interest  him;  at  first  he  read  only  a 
few  passages  here  and  there,  but  finally  he  became  absorbed 
in  his  daughter's  work. 

"  You  have  been  very  industrious,"  he  said,  after  a  while. 
"  Your  verses  are  beautiful,  the  diction  is  pure,  and  your  style 
has  improved  considerably  since  you  laid  your  first  dramatic 
production  before  us." 

"  Oh,  at  that  time  I  was  still  a  child !"  cried  Germainc,  some- 
what offended. 

"  Yes,  you  were  a  child,  but  a  very  promising  one,"  replied 
Necker,  calmly.  "And  now  that  we  are  about  to  celebrate 
your  birthday,  I  hope  we  shall  witness  the  realization  of  all  the 
expectations  to  which  you  have  given  rise.  Is  it  not  so,  my 
daughter  ? " 

"  I  hope  so,"  replied  Germaine,  trying  to  divine  the  drift  of 
her  father's  words. 

"  At  that  time,  you  know,  I  advised  you  not  to  continue  your 
literary  labors,  because  I  think  a  woman  should  lay  her  works 
before  the  public  only  if  her  talents  justify  this  step;  and  a> 
you  were  stiil  a  child,  I  could  not  decide  positively  as  to  the 
character  of  your  abilities.  Since  then  I  have  had  repeated 


180  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

opportunities  of  admiring  your  extraordinary  talents.  Your 
reply  to  the  Compte  Rendu  was  a  masterpiece  of  eloquence; 
your  notes  on  Montesquieu's  'Esprit  des  Loix'  are  no  less 
piquant  than  able ;  and  what  you  have  written  about  Rousseau 
surprised  me  in  a  girl  of  your  age ;  but,  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
these  poetical  efforts  seem  to  me  unworthy  of  Necker's  daugh- 
ter." 

"  Why,  father  ?  "  asked  Germaine,  bursting  into  tears. 

"Because  they  speak  only  of  love  and  passion,  and  of  the 
bitter  grief  of  resignation.  I  should  have  expected  that  you 
would  have  bestowed  your  attention  upon  graver  subjects. 
You  are  no  ordinary  girl,  Germaine.  If  you  were,  I  should 
•willingly  forgive  you  these  idle  reveries.  If  you  could  lend  to 
your  life  no  higher  interest  than  to  hear  the  confession  of  love 
from  the  lips  of  a  man,  I  should  not  blame  you  for  practicing 
the  little  arts  leading  to  that  object.  But,  gifted  as  you  are 
far  beyond  most  women,  you  must  set  a  wider  horizon  to  your 
feelings;  humanity,  and  not  a  single  man,  must  fill  your 
heart." 

Germaine  had  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  made  no 
reply.  Her  father's  words  touched  her  like  live  coals.  He  had 
touched  the  right  string ;  her  ambition  was  sorely  wounded. 
Necker  continued,  after  a  pause : 

"  Since  you  are  brooding  over  your  feelings,  your  intellec- 
tual development  has  made  no  progress.  Sophie,  ou  les  senti- 
ments secrets.  I  ask  you  what  new  views  you  will  gain  by  writ- 
ing on  such  a  subject.  Then  comes  Jane  Grey.  Despite  the  his- 
torical back-ground,  you  treat  the  subject  in  the  same  limited 
manner.  The  verses  are  good,  and  the  style  is  very  attractive, 
but  I  do  not  consider  that  sufficient.  Of  my  daughter,  I  ex- 
pect ideas.  You  have  a  masculine  mind ;  that  is  to  say,  you 
possess  judgment,  and,  therefore,  stand  above  the  relations  of 


A   DISAPPOINTMENT.  181 

life,  while  the  so-called  feminine  natures  are  pent  up  and 
dominated  by  them.  How  often  did  you  fill  both  myself  and 
the  friends  of  our  house  with  sincere  admiration,  by  your  pro- 
found criticisms  and  correct  appreciation  of  authors  and  their 
works,  and  now  you  would  allow  your  mind  to  walk  in  the 
leading-string*1  of  your  emotions." 

"  No,  I  wil!  not  do  so,  father ! "  vehemently  cried  Germaine, 
jumping  up  from  her  seat.  "  As  sure  as  I  live,  I  will  not  do 
so.  But  pa)  Jon  me  for  saying :  I  long  so  intensely  to  love 
and  be  lover,  that  my  yearning  for  this  happiness  overshad- 
ows every  o*,uer  desire  of  my  heart.  Is  it  my  fault  that  my 
heart  throbs,  impetuously,  and  that  in  my  bosom  burns  a  fire 
that  longs  to  be  quenched  ?  Is  it  my  fault  that  in  my  veins 
stirs  a  current  of  life,  intent  on  asserting  itself?  I  do  not 
know  whither  to  direct  the  strength  which  I  possess ;  it  seems 
to  me  I  am  bk?  a  volcano,  in  whose  depths  the  elements  are 
struggling  TV  ita  one  another,  while  the  cold  and  dry  surface 
covers  the  HMnte.i  lava.  I  walk  my  path  like  other  human 
beings ;  but  vbfct  .makes  them  happy,  kills  me.  I  find  no  sat- 
isfaction in  the  petty  pleasures  and  joys  of  life  ;  there  must  be 
a  happiness  aftVrdlag  us  a  more  exalted  bliss,  and  it  is  for  this 
bliss  that  I  long." 

"  You  will  not  und  i*  m  the  path  which  you  have  entered," 
said  Necker,  taking  hox  ha.id,  and  drawing  her  to  him.  "  All 
gifted  natures  feel  as  you  do.  Life  seems  to  them  not  to  afford 
what  they  long  for;  .\nd  to  satisfy  this  longing  for  more  ex- 
alted bliss,  religion  points  o:U  to  them  the  road  to  another 
Avorld.  A  man  has  l*is  amttt-on  ^nd  glory  to  quench  this 
flume  ;  a  woman  has  nothin  j  but  her  *  we,  wMch  pens  her  up 
in  a  narrow  circle  of  duties.  Look  £t  y^ir  moi?»br.  What  a 
simple,  unpretending  life  she  has:  led  by  my  side,  hombly  and 
faithfully  striving  to  be  a  he'pmate  to  r:\fc.  Ii  is  the 


182  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

aim  which  a  woman  is  able  to  reach,  to  become  the  consort  of 
a  man  whom  she  loves  and  respects,  and  to  whom  she  will- 
ingly subordinates  herself,  because  she  acknowledges  his  supe- 
rior judgment.  You  must  renounce  this  kind  of  happiness, 
my  child ;  inasmuch  as  your  superior  intellect  prevents  you 
from  pursuing  such  a  modest  and  humble  course.  The  man 
to  whom  you  might  look  up,  would  have  to  be  born  first." 

"  I  revere  you,  father,  as,  next  to  God,  I  can  never  revere  any 
mortal ;  and  I  do  believe  that  you  arc  on  earth  the  only  man 
worthy  of  such  reverence ! " 

"You  are  my  child,"  said  Necker,  affectionately,  and  that 
determines  our  relationship.  In  a  certain  sense  I  am  you,  and 
you  are  me.  We  are  mutually  proud  of  one  another;  and  that 
which  concerns  you,  touches  me  even  more  sensibly  than  if  it 
concerned  myself.  But  it  is  not  thus  with  man  and  wife.  They 
must  first  assimilate,  and  learn  how  to  treat  one  another.  For 
this  purpose  the  wife  has  need  of  self-abnegation.  But  you  are 
unable  to  restrain  ;  your  nature  is  too  impetuous  and  indepen- 
dent, and  must  rule  until  time  will  teach  you  moderation.  You 
are,  moreover,  too  gifted  to  bo  able  to  confine  your  talents  to 
the  narrow  circle  of  domestic  duties ;  you  must  yield  to  grand 
ideas,  and  warm  your  heart  for  the  happiness  of  millions.  It 
is  in  this  extensive  horizon  that  lies  the  happiness  for  which 
you  long.  Silence  your  feelings,  and  let  them  give  place  to 
fame." 

Germaine  trembled.  She  pressed  her  hand  to  her  heart,  and 
became  so  dizzy  that  she  was  fearful  she  might  faint  away. 

"  And  you  believe  that  I  possess  ability  enough  to  obtain 
fame?"  She  asked,  anxiously. 

"  I  believe  it  not  only,  my  daughter,  but  feel  convinced  of  it 
No  woman  in  France  ever  possessed  such  extensive  knowledge 
und  refined  culture  as  you  do.  Lay  a-idc  those  childish  c  Hurts, 


A    DISAPPOINTMENT.  183 

bestow  your  attention  upon  something  serious,  continue  your 
letters  on  Ro,  sseau,  publish  them  as  soon  as  they  are  com- 
pleted, and  your  success  will  teach  you  something  about  your 
worth  and  capacity.  All  France  will  pronounce  the  name  of 
the  authoress  with  ardent  admiration,  and  Parisian  society  \v ill 
lavish  encomiums  on  you." 

"Oh,  if  I  could  obtain  fame  in  this  wise!"  she  exclaimed, 
with  radiant  eyes.  "  Oh,  if  I  should  be  admired  and  revered 
like  you  !  Ah,  I  feel  how  tempting  the  idea  is  ! " 

"  Rely  on  my  judgment.  It  is,  besides,  my  intention  to  pro- 
cure you  now  a  sphere  of  your  own  in  Paris.  Loath  as  I  am 
to  part  with  you,  I  must  pursue  the  same  course  as  other  fa- 
thers, and  secure  you  a  name  of  your  own,  and  a  position  in 
society.  Now,  inasmuch  as  you  are  iny  only  child,  I  may  be 
pardoned  for  the  desire  of  keeping  you  near  me,  and  this  is 
the  only  difficulty  standing  in  the  way  of  a  match  suitable 
and  desirable  in  every  other  respect," 

"  With  whom  ? "  exclaimed  Germaine,  crimsoning. 

"With  the  Swedish  Embassador,  Baron  de  Stael.  He  is 
a  Protestant;  hence,  there  is  no  religious  objections  to  the 
union.  His  official  position  will  procure  you  access  to  the  most 
aristocratic  society,  and  even  the  Court  must  receive  you, 
whether  your  father  be  in  disgrace  or  not.  M.  de  Stael,  al- 
though no  longer  a  young  man,  is  good-looking,  and  will  not 
impose  any  restraint  on  you  ;  only  as  regards  representation, 
you  must  submit  to  the  stringent  rules  of  court  etiquette.  He 
is  not  wealthy,  and  so  he  desired  this  union ;  and  inasmuch  as 
I  was  fearful  lest  his  King  should  recall  him,  and  bury  my 
child  in  the  woods  of  Scandinavia,  I  imposed  the  condition 
that  he  must  procure  a  written  pledge  that  he  should 
remain,  at  the  head  of  the  Parisian  embassy  during  his  life- 
time. He  has  now  applied  to  Marie  Antoinette;  and  the 


184  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

Queen,  who  is  as  passionate  a  match-maker  as  most  women, 
has  written  an  autograph  letter  to  the  King  of  Sweden.  As 
soon  as  his  answer  arrives,  I  shall  present  Baron  de  Stael  to 
you,  and  you  may  then  decide  for  yourself  whether  you  will 
accept  his  hand  or  not." 

So  saying,  Necker  left  his  daughter,  musing  on  all  that  she 
had  heard. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  DINNER  AT  THE  ACADEMY. 

THE  Prince  cle  Beauveau  gave  a  brilliant  festival  to  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Academy,  and  invited  Necker  to  it.  Necker  vis- 
ited now  but  rarely  the  soirees  to  which  he  was  invited,  inas- 
much as  the  feeble  health  of  his  wife  rendered  it  impossible 
for  her  to  accompany  him ;  but  on  this  occasion  she  deter- 
mined to  make  an  exception,  and  urged  him  to  accept  the 
invitation  for  herself  and  Germaine. 

Germaine  was  overjoyed  at  her  mother's  resolution,  inas- 
much as  she  hoped  to  find  the  most  brilliant  conversation  in 
the  circle  of  the  most  distinguished  men  of  France.  So  she 
looked  farward  to  the  appointed  day  with  considerable  interest 
and  pleasure. 

Since  the  interview  with  her  father,  which  we  have  related 
in  the  preceding  chapter,  she  had  zealously  devoted  her  morn- 
ing hours  to  her  literary  labors.  However  difficult  it  was  for 
her  to  renounce  the  dearest  wishes  of  her  heart,  she  felt  the 
necessity  of  following  her  father's  advice  ;  for  who  could  tell 
if  she  was  not  mistaken  in  regard  to  Montmorency's  apparent 
attachment,  as  she  had  been  as  to  that  of  M.  de  Narbonne's  ? 
Who  could  tell  her  that  he  was  able  to  dispose  of  his  heart 
and  hand  in  consonance  with  his  own  wishes  ? 

Her  interviews  with  him  caused  her  to  heave  many  a 
heavy  sigh.  She  was  not  allowed  to  tell  him  how  much  she 
felt  attracted  towards  him,  nor  suffer  him  to  read  in  her  eyes 


186  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

how  much  she  liked  him.  This  embarrassed  and  confused  her 
in  his  presence. 

His  changeable  conduct  added  to  her  perplexity.  Now  he 
treated  her  with  the  tenderness  of  a  brother,  and  now  he 
took  pains  to  be  cold  toward  her,  as  if  it  was  his  intention  to 
efface  the  impression  which  he  had  made  on  her  before.  This 
uncertainty  in  their  mutual  relations  was  perfectly  intoler- 
able, and  she  was  desirous  of  bringing  about  a  decision  at  any 
cost. 

Her  beautiful  and  profound  essays  on  Rousseau's  character 
and  writings  were  on  the  eve  of  completion,  and  she  anxiously 
looked  forward  to  the  moment  when  she  would  lay  them  be- 
fore the  public. 

She  would  oftentimes  absorb  herself  so  thoroughly  in  this 
occupation,  that  she  took  no  notice  of  the  lapse  of  time; 
and  to-day,  too,  when  the  festival  at  the  Academy  was  to  take 
place,  this  had  happened  to  her.  Madame  Necker  entered  her 
room  in  full  dress  before  she  had  even  thought  of  her  toilet. 
She  jumped  up  in  dismay  when  she  saw  her  mother's  clouded 
brow,  and  hastened  out  of  her  room. 

Madame  Necker,  shaking  her  head,  followed  her  with  a  slow 
step. 

Upon  entering  her  daughter's  room,  she  found  Germaine's 
maid  already  busily  occupied  in  helping  to  dress  her  young 
mistress.  She  fastened  red  rosettes  to  her  dark  hair,  and  put  on 
a  green  dress  fringed  with  gold ;  this  costume  rendered  her 
corpulent  form  and  swarthy  complexion  so  conspicuous,  that 
Germaine's  mother  started  back  in  dismay  as  she  now  beheld 
her  own  image  beside  that  of  her  daughter  in  the  large  toilet- 
mirror. 

"  You  cannot  wear  this  costume,  Germaine,"  she  said.  "  This 
dress  does  not  become  you." 


THE    DINNER    AT   THE    ACADEMV.  187 

"Nevermind,"  replied  Germaine,  carelessly.  "  I  never  shall 
be  beautiful,  and  I  should  not  like  to  keep  father  waiting." 

"  He  will  do  so  rather  than  expose  his  daughter  to  the  sneers 
of  society,  which  always  finds  fault  with  what  the  Necker  fam- 
ily is  doing,"  replied  her  mother,  in  a  tone  of  vexation.  "  You 
must  now  the  more  zealously  avoid  exposing  yourself  to  ridi- 
cule, as  you  may  at  no  distant  time  fill  a  place  in  society  where 
such  things  might  injure  you." 

"  Of  course,  if  I  am  to  be  judged  by  such  trifles,  such  as  the 
color  of  a  rosette  or  a  bonnet,  I  shall  frequently  incur  the  cen- 
sure of  society ;  for  my  nature  is  averse  to  paying  much  atten- 
tion to  such  things,"  said  Germaine,  angrily. 

Madame  Necker  made  no  reply,  in  order  not  to  continue  this 
conversation  in  the  presence  of  the  servant-girl.  When  they 
entered  the  carriage,  she  said : 

"  I  owe  you  yet  a  reply,  Germaine.  Accept  this  lesson  from 
your  mother  now,  that  it  may  still  be  useful  to  you.  Never 
treat  anything  as  so  trifling  that  it  might  not  influence  the  hap- 
piness or  unhappiness  of  your  life.  It  is  a  noteworthy  fact, 
too,  that  we  seldom  gain  the  affections  of  men  by  brilliant 
qualities,  but  rather  by  the  little  things  by  which  we  enchant 
their  eyes.  This  truth  may  seem  distasteful  to  you,  but  put  it  to 
the  test,  and  you  will  be  unable  to  deny  it." 

Germaine  made  no  reply,  as  she  vised  to  do  when  her  mother 
spoke  of  love;  her  remarks  on  that  subject  always  made  a  dis- 
agreeable impression  on  her,  and  a  painful  feeling  of  envy  and 
jealousy  tormented  her  heart. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  Academy,  all  the  guests  were  al- 
ready assembled.    The  singular  contrast  between  mother  and 
daughter  was  noticed  by  everybody  to-day.    Madame  Nccker 
looked  even  paler  than  usual.    She  wore  a  crimson  dress — her  ' 
favorite  color — and  her  fair  hair  was  dressed  in  antique  style, 


188  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

with  a  toupet  called  d  la  Miiierve,  which  she  had  introduced  be- 
cause she  disliked  the  tall  hair-dress  then  in  vogue.  Her  deli- 
cate and  slender  figure  and  white  and  almost  transparent 
complexion  still  imparted  to  her  a  very  youthful  appearance, 
although  she  was  already  upward  of  forty  years  old. 

Germaine,  on  the  other  hand,  looked  much  older  than  she 
was.  Although  her  white  dress,  and  the  plain  green  wreath 
with  which  her  mother  had  caused  her  to  adorn  her  dark  hair, 
were  a  toilet  suitable  to  her  complexion,  and  distinguished  her 
from  the  older  ladies,  she  did  not  make  a  pleasing  impres- 
sion, and,  above  all  things,  there  was  wanting  to  her  that  grace- 
ful composure  and  tranquillity  peculiar  to  the  bearing  of  a  dis- 
tinguished lady. 

She  would  have  certainly  herself  felt  this  want  most  sensibly, 
had  she  been  aware  of  it ;  but  no  one  is  able  to  draw  an  im- 
partial picture  of  his  own  appearance,  and  never  correctly 
appreciates  the  impression  which  it  produces. 

Despite  her  superior  mind,  which  inwardly  raised  her  far 
above  most  men,  she  always  seemed  to  be  deficient  in  that  dig- 
nity which  self-consciousness  generally  imparts  to  us.  This 
arose,  perhaps,  from  the  fact  that  it  was  not  easy  for  her  to  be- 
gin a  conversation,  and  usually  was  exceedingly  laconic  in 
speaking  with  insignificant  persons;  and  it  was  uot  until  an 
idea  excited  her  interest  that  she  burst  forth  into  a  stream  of 
the  most  fervent  eloquence,  which  silenced  all  others. 

Necker,  therefore,  would  say,  "Mafille  a  besoin  dun  premier 
mot" 

There  were  among  the  guests  several  ladies  of  the  court,  to 
whom  Madame  Necker  hurriedly  introduced  her  daughter ; 
and  then  all  went  to  the  table. 

Germaine  was  fortunate  enough  to  sit  between  two  gentle- 
men who  were  exceedingly  agreeable  to  her — M.  de  Narbonno 


THE  DINNER  AT  THE  ACADEMY.        189 

and  M.  de  Condorcet.  She  missed,  however,  the  Vicomte  de 
Moutmorency ;  ajad  yet,  whenever  the  question,  rose  to  her 
lips,  she  did  not  venture  to  inquire  why  he  was  not  present. 

The  general  conversation  soon  referred  to  the  usual  topics : 
the  finances,  the  short  supply  of  grain,  Minister  Calonne  and 
his  golden  promises,  the  purchase  of  St.  Cloud  for  Queen 
Marie  Antoinette,  and  the  growing  unpopularity  of  her 
Majesty. 

"  Let  us  not  talk  politics  to-day,  Mademoiselle  Necker," 
exclaimed  Narbonne  ;  "  I  am  in  too  good  spirits  to  give  you 
any  sensible  answers." 

"  And  I  am  too  grave  to  talk  anything  but  sense,"  replied 
Germainc.  "  So  we  had  better  keep  silence." 

"  I  shall  not  object,  if  Condorcet  will  tell  us  some  pretty 
stories  which  would  make  us  laugh." 

"  I  should  rather  make  you  shudder,  by  repeating  all  sorts 
of  ghost  stories  about  Cagliostro  and  the  Rosicrucians.  But 
you  must  first  promise  me  to  listen  without  skepticism." 

"  I  shall  promise  no  such  thing,"  exclaimed  Germaine.  "  I 
must,  above  all  things,  preserve  my  liberty." 

"  That  is  my  creed  too,"  said  Condorcet.  "  Mademoiselle 
Necker  and  I  are  worthy  of  being  placed  by  the  side  of  the 
great  Washington." 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Narbonne,  "  where  is  our  young  enthu- 
siast of  liberty  ?  Why  is  our  friend  Montmorency  not  here  ?  " 

"  He  was  suddenly  summoned  to  his  old  grandmother  in 
the  country.  The  venerable  lady  had  heard  all  sorts  of  ru- 
mors about  him,  which  rendered  her  fearful  he  might  prove 
recreant  to  the  principles  of  a  Montmorency.  A  family  coun- 
cil was  summoned ;  and  he  is,  perhaps,  being  tried  at  this  very 
moment." 

"  Well,  we  cannot  swim  against  the  stream  in  this  world," 


190  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

replied  Narboune,  carelessly.  "  They  have  long  ago  chosen  a 
wife  for  him,  but  could  never  prevail  on  him  even  to  look  at 
the  girl.  For  the  rest,  that  may  not  be  so  very  necessary,  pro- 
vided he  consents  to  marry  her." 

"  His  grandmother  will  be  certain  to  obtain  his  consent," 
said  Condorcet,  laughing.  "  No  one  but  he  who  has  experienced 
it  himself,  knows  the  power  of  a  grandmother's  tears  over  the 
heart  of  a  tender  young  man." 

"  I  think  tears  are  even  more  effective  when  the  eyes  which 
weep  them  are  not  too  old,"  said  Narbonne,  jocularly. 

"  I  am  sure  you  cannot  weep,"  said  Coudorcet  to  Germaiue, 
who  had  sat  absorbed  in  her  thoughts ;  "  the  fire  of  your  eyes 
will  immediately  dry  the  tears  gushing  from  your  lids." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  M.  de  Condorcet.  Grief  always  affects 
me  so  powerfully  that  I  shed  at  once  streams  of  tears,  and 
could  fill  for  you  a  vial  with  tear-drops  if  you  wish  it." 

"  In  that  case  I  should  have  to  wish  to  plunge  you  into  grief, 
which  would  cause  those  tears,  and  God  forbid  that  I  should 
do  that,"  exclaimed  Condorcet,  deprecatiugly. 

"  Pray  look  at  Cazotte,"  interposed  Narbonne,  pointing  to  a 
pale  young  man  who  sat  close  by.  "  He  is  turning  paler  and 
paler,  and  rolls  his  eyes  as  if  he  had  visions." 

"  I  wonder  why  they  invited  him,"  said  Condorcet,  shaking 
his  head. 

"  Perhaps  he  came  without  an  invitation.  You  know  what 
sort  of  a  man  he  is." 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  asked  Germaine. 

•     "To  be  sure  I  do,"  replied  Narbonne.    "He  is  a  popular 

I  journalist ;   but  he  has  latterly  lost  his  head,  owing  to  the 

Avritings  of  Saint  Martin  and  the  teachings  of  the  Illuminati. 

He  is  said  to  have  occasional  fits  of  insanity,  when  he  foretells 

the  events  of  the  future." 


THE    DINNER    AT   THE    ACADEMY.  191 

"Why  do  you  call  the  gift  of  prophecy  insanity  ?"  asked 
Germaine. 

"  Because  I  do  not  believe  that  it  is  given  to  us  to  foresee  fu- 
ture events,"  replied  Narbonne. 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  him  prophesy,"  exclaimed  Germaine, 
excitedly. 

"  In  that  case  I  will  try  to  see  if  the  spirit  moves  him  to  re- 
veal the  future  to  us,"  said  Condorcet,  rising  to  speak  with  the 
strange  guest. 

"  You  are  so  grave,  M.  Cazotte,"  he  began.  "  You  do  not 
participate  in  the  conversation.  May  I  fill  your  glass  and  at 
the  same  time  drink  your  health  ?  " 

"  I  thank  you,"  mournfully  replied  Cazotte,  shaking  his  head. 

"  What  ?    You  are  so  dejected  that  nothing  will  induce  you 

to  participate  in  the  general  mirth  ?  "  Condorcet  went  on  to  ask. 

A  shudder  ran  through  Cazotte's  frame,  and  averting  his 

head,  he  whispered,  "Poor  Condorcet!    It  tastes  bitter,  does 

it  not?" 

"  Are  you  speaking  of  me  ?  "  exclaimed  Condorcet.  "  I  do 
not  understand  what  you  mean.  What  is  bitter?  Pray  tell 
me  what  you  refer  to  ?  " 

"  The  poison  tastes  bitter,"  whispered  Cazotte. 
"  What  poison  ?  " 

"  That  which  you  will  take  in  order  not  to  fall  under  the 
executioner's  ax." 

Condorcet  turned  pale.  He  smiled,  but  with  bloodless  lips. 
Germaine,  who  had  listened  to  them  attentively,  seized  Nar- 
bonne's  arm  and  clung  to  it  convulsively. 

"  You  let  me  suffer  the  death  of  Socrates,"  he  then  said,  with 
forced  composure, "  but  do  not  tell  me  the  reason  why.  I  can- 
nof,  like  him,  overthrow  the  false  gods,  nor  proclaim  that  there 
is  but  one  God." 


1D2  MADAME    UE    STAEL. 

"  Trutli  is  God  ;  lies  are  false  gods,'^  cried  Cazotte,  as  if  ab- 
sently. 

"  Ah,  well  then,  let  us  drink  to  the  victory  of  truth,  gentle- 
men ! " 

"  You  laugh,"  said  Cazotte,  shaking  his  head  disapprovingly. 
"  Poor  Condorcet.  You  will  soon  cease  laughing  in  this  man- 
ner ! " 

"  Your  words  are  very  grave,"  replied  Condorcet,  with 
forced  hilarity.  "  But  do  you  want  to  let  me  die  all  alone 
for  the  triumph  of  truth  ?  That  would  be  almost  too  cruel." 

"  Unfortunately,  fellow-sufferers  will  not  be  wanting  to  you," 
said  Cuzotte,  with  a  deep  sigh.  "  Your  neighbor  at  this  table, 
M.  Chamfort,  is  averse  to  sharing  the  bitter  cup  with  you ;  but 
he  does  not  want  to  fall  either  under  the  executioner's  ax;  so 
he  will  open  his  veins  and  slowly  bleed  to  death.  As  for  you, 
M.  Bailly,  and  you,  Malesherbes,  and  Roucher,  you  will  hope 
to  the  last  that  they  will  acquit  you  ;  even  at  the  moment  when 
they  lead  you  to  the  scaffold,  you  will  refuse  to  believe  that 
your  death  is  at  hand." 

All  the  guests  now  commenced  listening  to  him  attentively. 
Germaine  trembled  with  horror  and  agitation. 

"  What  will  be  my  fate  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  very  low  voice. 

Strange  to  say,  "Cazotte  seemed  to  have  heard  her  words, 
for  he  immediately  fixed  his  eyes  on  her,  and  the  longer  he 
looked  at  her,  the  more  joyous  became  the  expression  of  his 
face. 

"  Yoii  are  saved ! "  he  said  at  last,  heaving  a  deep  sigh  of  re- 
lief. "  You  save  the  life  of  two  friends,  and  your  own  is  pre- 
served in  return." 

"  And  the  names  of  those  whom  I  save  ?  "  she  cried,  in  fever- 
ish agitation. 
•  "  M.  de  Narbonne  and  M.  de  Montmorcncy,  neither  of  whom 


THE   DINNER   AT  THE   ACADEMY.  193 

deserve  that  you  should  risk  your  life  in  saving  them  from  the 
executioner's  ax." 

"  He  does  not  speak  very  highly  of  me,  that  is  certain,"  ex- 
claimed Narbonne,  laughing.    It  was  to  be  seen,  however,  teat 
his  mirth  did  not  come  from  his  heart.    "  Henceforth  I  shall 
more  than  ever  take  pains  to  keep  on  friendly  terms  with  you, 
Mademoiselle  Necker,  since  I  know  that  you  might  suffer  me 
to  expiate  the  slightest  delinquency  with  my  head." 
"  Not  with  your  heart,  too  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  Oh,  you  have  long  since  crushed  that." 
"  But  all  of  us  must  die.    Could  he  not  be  prevailed  upon  to 
tell  us,  how,  when,  and  where?" 

"  The  '  how,'  at  bottom,  is  indifferent,"  replied  Narbonne ; 
"  the '  when '  might  prevent  us  from  enjoying  the  present  time ; 
but  the '  where '  cannot  lessen  our  happiness.  So  let  us  inquire 
about  the '  where.' " 

Gazette,  whose  eyes  were  still  turned  in  the  same  direction, 
looked  at  both  of  them  a  while  in  silence ;  he  then  murmured 
in  a  very  low  voice : 

"  Not  on  French  soil.  Narbonne  dies  at  Torgau,  and  M'lle 
Necker  at  Geneva." 

The  two  looked  at  each  other  in  surprise.  "  Torgau  ! "  said^ 
Germaine.  "  I  should  like  to  know  where  that  is.  For  God's 
sake,  why  should  you  go  to  such  a  place?  " 

"Yes,  if  I  knew  that,"  replied  Narbonne,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  "perhaps  I  should  not  do  so."  Both  of  them 
laughed. 

Meanwhile  all  the  guests  had  risen  in  order  to  hear  what  was 
going  on.  The  Duchess  de  Grammont  stepped  close  up  to 
Cazotte  and  said : 

"  Pray,  M.  Cazotte,  prophesy  to  me,  too,  as  noble  a  deed  as 
you  predicted  to  M'lle  Necker.  It  would  be  exceedingly 


194  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

agreeable  to  me  to  hear  that  one  of  these  gentlemen  should  be 
indebted  to  me  for  his  life." 

Cazotte  looked  at  the  beautiful  lady  for  a  moment.  He 
then  said : 

"  I  can  only  inform  you,  Duchess,  that  you  -will  be  taken, 
with  many  other  ladies,  in  a  cart,  your  hands  tied  behind  your 
back,  to  the  place  of  execution." 

"  And  M'lle  Necker  will  not  accompany  me  ?  "  she  asked, 
laughing. 

"  She  will  not  accompany  you,"  he  replied,  his  expression 
growing  still  more  mournful,  and  his  blue  eyes  filling  with  tears. 
"  She  will  be  far  away.  Her  heart  will  suffer ;  she  will  seek 
assuagement ;  and  that  which  will  afford  it  to  her  will  plunge 
her  into  an  early  grave." 

"  You  treat  me  too  cruelly,  M.  Cazotte,"  said  the  Duchess. 
"  The  prospect  of  that  ride  on  the  cart  is  decidedly  unpleasant. 
I  wish  at  least  I  had  agreeable  companions  on  the  way  to  the 
place  of  execution." 

"  They  will  assuredly  allow  you  a  confessor,  Madame,"  ex- 
claimed Condorcet,  jocularly ;  "  and  inasmuch  as  you  will  have 
a  long  time  to  prepare  for  the  ride,  you  should  betimes  select  a 
very  amiable  abbe  for  that  purpose.  If  Cardinal  Rohan  should 
be  acquitted  by  that  time,  you  might  count  upon  him ;  he  is 
fond  not  only  of  love  affairs,  but  of  all  sorts  of  adventures, 
and  both  of  them  united  would  crown  his  wishes.  The  same 
may  be  said  of  the  amiable  Talleyrand,  who  would  certainly 
not  shrink  from  the  short  journey  from  Autun  to  Paris  in 
order  to  render  you  this  important  service.  How  soon  shall 
we  have  to  send  for  him,  M.  Cazotte?"  he  said,  turning  in- 
quiringly to  the  latter. 

"  It  is  unnecessary,"  replied  Cazotte.  "  The  last  person  who 
will  be  accompanied  to  the  scaffold  by  a  priest," — he  hesitated 


THE   DIXXER  AT  THE   ACADEMY. 


195 


for  a  moment,  as  if  his  lips  refused  to  utter  the  words-"  is 
Louis  Capet,  King  of  France  1" 

No  sooner  had  those  terrible  words  been  spoken,  than  all  the 
guests  started  up  at  the  same  time,  and  looked  in  dismay  at  the 
prophet,  who,  trembling  at  his  own  prediction,  intended  to 
escape  from  the  room.  But  the  Duchess  de  Grammont,  seizing 
his  arm,  said,  sneeringly : 

"  As  you  have  predicted  such  a  charming  lot  to  me,  sir,  I 
should  like  to  hear  what  you  are  going  to  do  about  yourself. 
Is  it  your  intention  to  share  my  fate?  Do  you  prefer  taking 
poison  like  M.  de  Condorcet,  or  will  the  hand  of  some  beautiful 
lady  untie  your  fetters,  as  you  prophesied  in  regard  to  M.  de 
Narbonne  and  M.  de  Montmorency  ?  Pray  inform  me  of  your 
fate,  too,  that  I  may  know  how,  when,  and  where  we  may  per- 
haps meet  again  ?  " 

Cazotte  eyed  the  beautiful  lady  gloomily,  from  head  to  foot, 
and  then  bowed  his  head,  saying  to  himself  in  a  monotonous 
voice : 

"  During  the  seige  of  Jerusalem  a  man  walked  on  the  walls 
of  Jerusalem  for  seven  days,  and  shouted  in  a  terrible  voice  : 
•Woe  unto  me!'  A  large  stone  hurled  from  the  enemy's 
MMsta  then  hit  him  and  tore  him  to  pieces." 

Having  addressed  these  words  to  the  Duchess,  he  bowed  to 
her  and  left  the  room. 

No  one  detained  him.  A  shudder  ran  through  the  whole 
conpany,  and  all  hastened  to  leave  the  house  without  taking 
any  further  notice  of  their  acquaintances. 


CHAPTER  YL 

THE  YOUNG  EMBASSADKESS. 

THE  Swedish  Embassador,  Baron  de  Stael,  held  to-day  his 
first  reception  at  his  newly-furnished  palace. 

Thousands  of  wax-lights  illuminated  the  spacious  apart- 
ments ;  the  most  beautiful  exotics  transformed  the  ante-rooms 
into  gardens,  and  impregnated  the  atmosphere  with  the  sweet 
perfumes  of  the  tropics.  Servants  in  gorgeous  liveries  has- 
tened in  all  directions,  and  stationed  themselves  at  the  foot  of 
the  large  staircase  in  order  to  receive  the  guests  and  announce 
their  names. 

In  one  of  the  rooms  a  great  many  instruments  were  to  be 
seen,  and  all  preparations  bad  been  made  for  a  concert.  M'lle 
Huberti,  the  first  cantatrice  of  the  Grand  Opera,  had  con- 
sented to  entertain  the  guests  with  some  airs  from  the  opera 
Dido,  which  she  sang  with  great  skill  and  taste.  The  lady  of 
the  house  herself  had  selected  the  airs ;  for  the  fate  of  the 
unhappy  Queen  of  Carthage  always  excited  her  heartfelt  com- 
passion. To  love  a  renowned  hero  seemed  to  her  such  a  great 
happiness,  that  she  regarded  as  quite  explicable  the  Queen's 
determination  not  to  survive  such  a  loss. 

Now  all  preparations  for  the  festival  were  completed,  and 
the  Embassador  walked  through  the  still  empty  apartments 
with  a  slow  step  and  gloomy  air. 

"  Is  my  wife  already  fully  dressed  ?  "  he  said  to  the  footman,, 
who  entered  the  room. 


THE    YOUNG    EMBASSADRESS.  197 

"I  shall  go  and  ask,  sir,"  replied  the  footman,  turning  to 
leave  the  room. 

"  Bequest  the  Baroness,  in  my  name,  to  come  hither  as  soon 
as  her  toilet  is  finished,"  said  the  Baron.  "  I  am  looking  mo- 
mentarily for  the  arrival  of  the  guests." 

Shortly  after,  a  young  lady  hastened  toward  him  through 
the  long  suite  of  gorgeous  apartments.  She  was  dressed  in 
light-blue  velvet,  and  wore  a  kind  of  crimson  turban  on  her 
raven  hair,  which  fell  in  heavy  ringlets  on  her  shoulders.  A 
set  of  precious  pearls  adorned  her  neck  and  beautiful  arms.* 
Despite  this  very  tasteful  and  expensive  costume,  and  notwith- 
standing the  charm  which  youth  imparts,  the  appearance  of 
the  young  Embassadress  was  by  no  means  prepossessing.  Her 
heavy  frame,  her  broad  lips,  and  coarse  features  imparted  to 
her  appearance  an  air  of  grossness  which  did  not  disappear 
till  one  caught  a  sunbeam  from  her  magnificent  eyes,  and 
heard  the  words  of  her  eloquent  lips. 

A  man's  gait  corresponds  to  his  character ;  for  it  is  an  ex- 
pression of  his  being. 

She  hastened,  as  we  said  before,  with  somewhat  too  long 
steps  through  the  long  suite  of  apartments  toward  her  husband, 
who  awaited  her  approach,  his  hands  folded  at  his  back. 
When  she  was  already  quite  close  to  him,  she  suddenly  stood 
still,  as  if  calling  something  to  mind,  assumed  a  stiffer  attitude, 
and  then,  approaching  him  more  ceremoniously,  and  bowing 
slightly,  said  to  him : 
"  You  see  I  am  ready,  sir." 

Her  husband's  air  had  not  changed  at  her  approach  ;  it  re- 
mained as  cold  as  before ;  only  a  tinge  of  irritation  was  added 

to  it. 

"  Your  gloves  ?  "  he  said,  eyeing  her. 
*  "  Portrait  inedit  de  Madame  de  Stael ;  par  uii  Homme  de  Lettres." 


198  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

She  looked  at  her  hands  in  surprise. 

"  Ah,  mon  Dieu,  I  have  forgotten  them,"  but  in  a  tone  be- 
traying the  vexation  caused  by  his  censure. 

"And  your  fan?" 

"  I  forgot  it,  too,  in  my  hurry  to  join  you  here.  I  shall  go 
and  fetch  the  gloves  and  fan  immediately." 

So  saying,  she  turned,  and  was  about  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Never  mind,"  exclaimed  the  Embassador.  "  It  would  be 
my  duty  to  render  you  this  service,  if  it  were  not  absolutely 
necessary  for  me  to  stay  here.  So  permit  me  to  send  my  valet- 
de-cliambre  for  the  gloves  and  fan.  Etienne,  hasten  to  the 
dressing-room  of  the  Baroness,  ask  her  gloves  and  fan  of  the 
lady's  maid,  and  tell  her  I  hoped  she  would  henceforth  attend 
more  carefully  to  her  duties." 

The  valet  hastened  to  carry  the  order  into  execution.  Mean- 
while Baron  de  Stael  turned  again  to  his  young  wife. 

"  I  hope  you  will  bear  in  mind  the  rules  of  etiquette,  Mad- 
ame, which  I  have  taken  pains  to  inculcate  upon  you,  and  you 
will  carefully  observe  the  ceremonial  in  accordance  with  the 
rank  of  the  persons  whom  we  shall  receive  to-night  ?  "  he  asked, 
coldly. 

"  I  believe  I  remember  all  your  instructions  on  this  subject, 
Baron,"  she  replied,  gently. 

"  You  will  oblige  me  by  trying  to  avoid  violating  those  rules 
in  any  respect,  Madame,"  he  continued,  in  the  same  measured 
tone.  "  It  would  be  very  disagreeable  to  me  if  all  Paris  should 
laugh  at  us  to-morrow." 

"  You  attach  considerable  importance  to  the  opinion  of  the 
•world  concerning  very  trifling  matters,  sir,"  she  said,  taking 
the  gloves  and  fan  which  the  valet  presented  to  her. 

"  The  rules  which  etiquette  imposes  on  aristocratic  society 
are  by  no  means  trifling  matters  to  persons  of  noble  birth,"  he 


THE   YOUNG   EMBASSADKESS. 
replied,  sarcastically.      "  They  are  the  tomb-stone  of  a  good 

^'Fortunately  more  liberal  views  begin  to  prevail  in  this  re- 
spect,"  she  said,  quietly.    "The  young  noblemen  of  France 
have  proved  in  the  American  war  that  they  hanker  after  a 
other  kind  of  glory  than  that  ofbeing  perfect  courtic  •,' 

"The  youn-  noblemen  will  soon  recover  from  their 
enthusiasm,  Madame,  and  then  be  ashamed  of  the  spurs  whicl 
they  won  in  struggling  for  a  bul  principle.    You  may  depec 

UP«  Pardon  me,  sir,  if  I  prefer  not  to  give  any  credence  to  your 
prediction;  for  it  would  grieve  me  to  doubt  the  ultirnate 
triumph  of  a  cause  for  which  all  my  pulses  are  throbbing. 

•  Then  I  advise  you  to  drink  a  great  deal  of  lemonade  in  01 
der  to  get  rid  of  those  unfeminine  sentiments." 

«  You  use  the  words  feminine  and  unfeminine  so  often,  sir, 
that  I  should  like  to  have  you  explain  to  me  what  qualities  yot 
wish  to  designate  by  these  adjectives?  At  times,  I  must  con- 
fess, the  strange  idea  has  occurred  to  me  that  you  call  fcmmme 
only  natures  about  which  little  or  nothing  can  be  said. 

"Your  supposition  is  quite  correct,  Madame.  We  ask  of 
a  woman  only  that  she  be  handsome  and  try  to  please  us." 

" In  that  case,  nature  has  imposed  upon  us  a  task  n 
agreeable  than  easy,"  she  said. 

•  Agreeable,  yes  ;  but  if  it  is  easy,  is  somewhat  doubtful,  in 
asrnuc°h  as  it  requires  charms  which  many  a  woman 
possess,"  he  said,  significantly. 

«  Count  d' Artois ! "  shouted  a  footman  at  this  moment. 
"Monsieur  and  Madame  Necker !"  shouted  another;  and 
while  the  Embassador  went  to  meet  the  royal  prince,  his  wife 
hastened  to  her  parents,  and  embraced  her  father  with  strea 


ing  eyes. 


200  MADAME    RE    STAEI* 

Necker  turned  pale  on  seeing  this  outburst  of  grief  on  the 
part  of  his  beloved  child.  He  glanced  anxiously  about  the 
room,  which  was  rapidly  filling  with  guests,  in  order  to  see  if 
anybody  had  noticed  the  occurrence. 

"  My  child !  my  own  daughter  ! "  he  whispered  to  her,  in 
deep  emotion.  "  For  your  father's  sake,  compose  yourself! " 

She  raised  her  head. 

Her  glance  met  the  ray  of  an  eye  which,  radiant  like  the 
eternal  sun,  gazed  with  infinite  tenderness  into  hers,  and  spoke 
to  her  the  mute  language  of  sympathy,  which  caused  her 
heart  to  tremble  with  unspeakable  joy.  "  Birth  and  beauty 
are  not  the  highest  boons,"  cried  a  voice  in  her  breast,  exult- 
ingly,  and  her  tears  ceased  flowing.  She  gazed  into  her 
father's  face  and  smiled. 

The  Vicomte  de  Montmorency  now  stepped  up  and  whis- 
pered to  her : 

"  Make  haste ;  the  Duchess  de  Polignac  has  just  been  an- 
nounced. You  must  receive  her  at  the  door." 

She  dried  her  eyes  and  followed  the  hint. 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Necker,  heaving  a  sigh. 

M.  de  Montmorency  remained  close  to  her  during  the  whole 
evening,  and  whenever  she  seemed  to  be  abstracted  or  inclined 
to  leave  her  post  in  order  to  chat  with  her  intimate  friends,  he 
encouraged  her,  by  a  word  or  glance,  to  persevere  in  the  per- 
formance of  her  duties ;  and  these  little  marks  of  sympathy  on 
his  part,  reconciled  her  to  the  conventional  phrases  which 
seemed  to  her  so  frivolous  and  insipid. 

At  parting,  .Necker  whispered  to  her  that  her  conduct  had 
gratified  him  exceedingly.  She  looked  at  him  with  a  mournful 
smile  and  sighed. 

He  understood  this  mute  reply. 

"  It  will,  perhaps,  be  best  for  her  if  we  now  allow  her  to  pub- 


THE   YOUNG   EHBASSADRESS.  201 

lish  her  writings,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  as  they  were  driving 

home. 

"  I  have  always  been  in  favor  of  it,"  replied  Madame  .Necker. 

"  I  was  in  hopes  that  the  splendor  of  her  new  position  would 
dazzle  her,  and  calm  her  passionate  heart ;  but  such  is  not  the 
case.  That  in  which  her  heart  takes  no  interest  leaves  her 
cold.  Poor  Germaine !  She  has  too  much  understanding  for 
a  woman." 

"  And  too  much  heart  for  a  man,"  said  Madame  Necker, 
smiling. 

Her  husband  laughed. 

"  But  still  they  say  that  she  bears  a  strong  resemblance  to 
me." 

"  That  may  be.    What  is  called  a  virtue  in  you,  becomes  a 

vice  in  us." 

"  Because  you  are  destined  to  represent  weakness." 
"  A  task  which  I  now  perform  very  satisfactorily,"  she  re- 
plied, smilingly,  alluding  to  her  feeble  health. 


9* 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    CELEBRATED    LADY. 

NUMEROUS  book-stalls,  where  all  the  new  papers  and  pam- 
phlets were  kept  for  sale,  were  to  be  found  on  the  ground-floor 
of  the  Palais  Royal.  The  passers-by  stopped  there,  looked  at 
the  titles  of  the  new  works,  and  bought  copies  of  the  periodical 
which  contained  articles  particularly  interesting  to  them.  The 
public  took  the  liveliest  interest  in  everything  that  was  printed, 
and  these  alleys  had  already  become  a  library  of  passions. 

Count  Louis  de  Narbonne  one  morning  left  one  of  these 
stalls.  He  held  a  folded  paper  m  his  hand,  and  went  with  it  to 
the  palace  of  the  Swedish  Embassador. 

It  was  quite  early  yet,  but  as  a  friend  of  the  house  he  was  ad- 
mitted without  being  announced.  Since  Necker's  daughter  had 
married  Baron  de  Stael,  she  had  a  writing-table  of  her  own. 
She  needed  no  longer  to  work  standing  and  in  a  hurry,  inas- 
much as  her  father  visited  her  only  at  certain  hours,  when  she 
was  not  at  liberty  to  occupy  herself  with  her  pen. 

When  Narbonne  entered  her  room,  she  was  writing  busily  ; 
and  as  she  was  turning  her  back  to  the  door,  she  did  not  no- 
tice his  arrival.  So  he  stepped  close  up  to  her  without  attract- 
ing her  attention,  and,  looking  over  her  shoulder,  he  read  in  a 
loud  voice,  in  the  manuscript  which  she  had  before  her : 
"  Montmorency :  a  tragedy  in  five  acts. — Cardinal  Richelieu." 

She  closed  the  manuscript  hastily,  pushed  it  aside,  and 
turned. 


THE   CELEBRATED  LADY. 

"  How  impertinent  you  are !    I  knew  it  was  you;  no  other 

man  would  have  done  that,"  she  exclaimed,  rising  from  her 

chair.    "  Such  little  traits  of  yours  prove  to  me  again  and 

again,  Narbonne,  that  you  are  unfit  to  become  a  republican. 

You  want  to  wage  war  against  inveterate  prejudices  ;  but  you 

do  not  want  to  obey.    You  are  averse  to  recognizing  and 

honoring  a  man  in  every  individual,  and  it  is  distasteful  to 

you  to  be  only  a  leaf  on  the  tree.    Ah,  Narbonne,  I  wish  I 

could  inspire  you  with  the  passion  that  must  fill^ur  whole 

heart  when  it  too  ardently  espouses  a  good  cause !    It  is  true, 

your  language  expresses  precisely  what  I  feel;  but  still  it 

always  seems  to  me  as  if  your  heart  is  not  in  what  you  utter." 

"  And  you  overwhelm  me  with  this  flood  of  reproaches  so 

early  in  the  morning,  so  unexpectedly,  and  so  undeservedly, 

mereiy_if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so— because  I  rashly 

read  a  name  which,  it  seems  to  me,  ia  distasteful  to  you,"  he 

said,  smilingly  fixing  his  fine  eyes  on  her. 

She  blushed.  To  conceal  her  confusion,  she  seated  herself, 
and  beckoned  to  him  to  take  a  chair  beside  her.  He  complied 
with  her  hint  slowly,  and,  meanwhile,  drew  the  paper  from 
his  pocket  and  unfolded  it.  She  noticed  it,  and  seeing  that  he 
was  looking  for  a  certain  passage  in  the  paper,  she  asked: 
"  What  is  it  ?  What  do  you  bring  to  us  ?  " 
"  Notwithstanding  my  numerous  faults,  and  the  inexcusable 
coldness  of  my  heart,  I  take  some  interest  in  the  welfare  of 
my  friends ;  and  to  prove  this  to  my  esteemed  Embassadress 
I  have  hastened  to  her  at  the  break  of  day  in  order  to  present 
to  her  an  article  criticizing  the  letters  on  the  character  and 
writings  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau." 

"  My  God  !  what  docs  it  say  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  almost  faint- 
ing with  agitation,  and  changing  her  color  every  second. 
"  What  should  it  say,  but  that  you  are  the  most  gifted  lady 


204  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

of  the  century ;  that  the  profound  understanding  with  which 
you  appreciate  Rousseau,  despite  your  youth,  is  something 
truly  marvelous ;  that  your  style  is  excellent ;  that  you  depict 
the  character  of  the  great  and  eccentric  man  with  no  less 
warmth  than  discrimination ;  in  short,  that  you  are  such  as 
your  friends  have  always  known  you  to  be ;  and  there  is  only 
one  thing  with  which  you  are  reproached  on  this  occasion — " 
He  hesitated  to  continue. 

"  For  God's  sake,"  she  cried,  trembling,  "  name  it ;  tell  me 
with  what  I  am  charged." 

"  That  you  refuse  to  do  justice  to  Count  Louis  de  Narbonne, 
and  to  grant  him  in  your  heart  the  place  which  he  believes  to 
deserve." 

"  Is  that  it  ?  "  she  said,  drawing  a  deep  breath,  as  if  a  heavy 
weight  had  been  lifted  from  her  breast ;  while  she  held  out  to 
him  her  beautiful  hand,  which  he  pressed  to  his  lips. 

"  You  seem  to  make  light  of  this  charge  ? "  he  said,  re- 
proachfully, fixing  his  fine  eyes  on  her,  archly. 

"  I  reject  it  as  unjust,"  she  replied,  merrily,  "  inasmuch  as 
my  friendship  has  conceived  such  lofty  plans  for  you  that  your 
wings  must  grow  before  you  reach  the  summit  on  which  I  de- 
sire to  place  you." 

"  That  I  might  fare  like  Icarus  ?  No,  no !  The -sun  of  your 
wonderful  eyes  has  already  heated  me  so  much,  that  I  shall 
take  good  care  not  to  approach  still  other  sunbeams ;  other- 
wise nothing  might  be  ere  long  left  of  me  but  a  small  heap  of 
ashes." 

"  The  Parisian  ladies  would  never  forgive  that  to  the  sun." 

"  Had  they  not  to  forgive  it  to  you  ?  " 

"  Because  the  sunbeams  of  my  eyes  did  not  consume  any- 
thing about  you.  You  have  remained  the  same  irresistible 
Narbonne  as  before." 


THE   CELEDUATKD   LADY. 


205 


"You  are  sarcastic,"  lie  said,  looking  at  her  languislringly. 

«  But  while  we  have  been  wasting  our  precious  time  in  chat- 
tino-  in  this  manner,  you  might  have  read  the  article  to  me," 
she°  exclaimed,  suddenly  returning  to  the  former  subject, 
my  name  mentioned  in  it?    Does  it  speak  of  me  personally  ? 
Or  does  it  refer  to  me  only  in  general  terms  as  the  author, 
of  those  letters  ?  " 

Narbonne  shook  his  head  disapprovingly.    ' 
fortunate  I  am  to  languish  at  the  feet  of  a  celebrated  lady  !' 
he  exclaimed,  with  ludicrous  pathos.    "She  robs  us  of  the 
most  beautiful  moments  by  occupying  herself  with  the  obj 
of  her  ambition,  to  which  she  refuses  to  raise  any  of  I 


men. 


en. 

«  You  try  my  patience  very  severely,  Narbonne,"  indignan 
exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael,  jumping  up  in  order  to  snatch  the 
paper  from  his  hand.    "  So  you  believe,  then,  that  it  is  a  mat- 
ter of  no  consequence  to  be  exposed  to  publicity  ?    To  have  to 
expose  your  defenseless  breast  every  minute  to  the  thousands 
of  arrows  which  malice  may  aim  at  it  with  impunity?    Did 
not  my  father's  experience  show  me  the  high  price  at  whi 
suchfamehastobepurchased?    Andheisaman.    Itiseasytc 
injureawoman;  she  cannot  protect  herself ;  she  cannot  hide 
hind  deeds  which  slander  is  unable  to  deny.    Nothing  defends 
us  but  our  very  weakness.    That  which  renders  us  assailabl. 
makes  us  strong,  and  enlists  the  forbearance  of  your  sex. 
when  you  wish  to  mortify  us,  you  are  not  magnanimous.    Yoi 
seize  then  every  weapon  youcan  find,  and  do  not  see  the  wound 
which  your  cruelty  enlarges  a  thousand  times.    Already  I 
the  pain  I  shall  suffer  when  everybody  aims  at  this  poor  heart, 

and  even  my  life-blood  cannot  save  it  any  longer." 
So  saying,  she  leaned  back  in  her  easy-chair,  and  closed  her 

eyes,  from  which  large  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks. 


206  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

"  Is  it  possible ! "  cried  Narbonne,  dismayed  at  the  sight  of  these 
tears,  which,  like  so  many  men,  he  could  not  bear,  "  that  you 
•with  your  clear  understanding  should  see  ghosts  in  broad  day- 
light? There  is  not  a  word  of  censure  in  the  whole  article. 
It  lavishes  the  most  flattering  praise  on  you.  When  Necker's 
daughter  appears  in  the  capacity  of  an  authoress ;  when  she 
writes  in  so  lofty  a  spirit  as  these  letters  breathe,  she  will  not 
only  create  a  sensation,  but  excite  admiration ;  and  not  only 
France,  but  the  whole  world  will  pay  homage  to  her.  Your 
distinguished  father  has  reason  to  be  proud,  not  only  of  his  own 
fame,  but  also  of  the  fact  that  his  daughter  is  the  most  gifted 
woman  on  earth.  That  will  crown  his  wishes." 

She  had  raised  herself  up  while  he  was  speaking,  and  a 
smile  kindled  her  features. 

"  Ah,  Narbonne,"  she  exclaimed,  "  you  are  mistaken  about 
my  father.  He  was  averse  to  my  obtaining  any  fame  as  an 
authoress ;  and  if  he  encouraged  me  to  publish  my  work,  I  be- 
lieve he  wished  that  literary  fame  should  indemnify  me  for 
the  disappointments  of  my  wedded  life.  The  woman  who 
marries  a  man  whom  she  does  not  love,  is  entitled  to  constant 
commiseration.  I  should  compel  my  daughter  to  choose  the 
husband  whom  she  loves.*  The  wife's  place  is  only  by  the 
side  of  her  beloved  husband ;  she  must  see  the  world  only 
through  the  eyes  of  her  hero;  her  vocation,  her  duty,  is  to  go 
only  arm  in  arm  with  him,  and  to  act  for  him.  She  cannot  live 
for  a  principle,  she  cannot  devote  herself  to  a  great  cause,  except 
through  the  husband  whom  she  has  chosen.  My  father  was 
unable  to  bestow  this  happiness  upon  his  daughter;  so  he 
tempted  her  to  go  in  search  of  fame." 

Narbonne  paced  the  room  in  great  agitation.  Suddenly  he 
stood  still  in  front  of  her. 

*  "Alailiiini1  Nrckc-i1  ilo  Suiir^ure." 


THE   CELEBBATED   LADY.  207 

«  If  we  had  got  acquainted  with  one  another  but  one  year 
before  we  did,  our  lot  would  have  been  a  different  one.  What 
would  you  not  have  made  of  mel" 

She  looked  at  him  laughingly  for  a  minute. 

«  So  it  is  only  for  that  reason  that  you  wished  to  have 
known  me  at  an  earlier  clay  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  smilingly.  "  In 
that  case  you  will  not  lose  anything,  Narbonne ;  for  what  your 
friend  can  do  for  you,  shall  not  be  wanting  to  you.  But,  foi 
my  part,  I  should  like  to  know  a  man  who  could  make  some 

thing  of  me" 

"  Of  you  ?  "  he  asked,  wonderingly. 
«  Of  me,"  she  repeated.    "  I  want  to  be  lifted  up,  and  not  to 

lift  up." 

At  this  moment  the  folding-doors  were  thrown  wid  open, 
and  the  footman  announced,  "  Baron  de  Stael  1 " 

The  Swedish  Embassador  entered  the  room  with  a  stiff,  dig- 
nified step,  bowed  coldly  to  Narbonne,  and  then  turned  to  his 

wife. 

« I  have  been  congratulated  on  the  fame  which  my  wife  h 
gained  as  an  authoress;  am  I  at  liberty  to  accept  these  con- 
gratulations,  Madame  ?  " 

"You  are,  sir,"  replied  his  wife,  in  the  same  ceremomo 

tone. 

«  At  any  rate  I  hope  that  you  will  be  liberally  rewarded  f 
your  labors,"  he  continued,  with  frigid  sarcasm.    "  After  once 
entering  the  ranks  of  the  laboring  classes,  you  are  certainly 
entitled  to  your  wages." 

«  The  booksellers  of  France  will  pay  me  as  liberal  a  salary 
as  your  King  gives  to  you,  sir.  The  only  difference  is  that  you 
have  to  serve  him  here,  while  they  serve  me  here." 

«  You  draw  a  very  singular  parallel.    But  then,  we  learn 
overlook  a  great  many  things  you  utter." 


208  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

He  bowed  as  frigidly  as  before,  and  left  the  room. 

"  Ah,  Narbonne,whata  prejudiced  world  this  is  1"  exclaimed 
Madame  de  Stael,  as  soon  as  they  were  alone.  "  Like  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau,  I  am  no  longer  able  to  find  any  place  on  tLis 
earth.  I  do  not  know  where  I  belong.  And  since  authorship 
weighs  me  down,  I  am  more  at  a  loss  than  ever  before.  The 
women  scold  me  for  being  what  all  of  them  would  be,  if  God 
had  endowed  them  with  talents.  What  they  are  unable  to  per- 
form, they  censure  in  others,  simply  because  the  grapes  are 
sour.  And  as  regards  the  men,  they  are  ready  and  willing  to 
praise  the  insignificant  talents  of  a  woman  ;  only  she  must  not 
venture  upon  fields  where  they  rule  supreme.  If  we  are  bold 
enough  to  place  ourselves  beside  them,  they  instantly  withdraw 
their  favor  from  us.  Alas,  it  is  a  sad  fate  to  be  a  woman  !  I 
pity  my  own  sex  profoundly.  Naturally  destined  as  we  are  to 
make  our  happiness  dependent  upon  the  other  sex,  we  find  it  to 
consist  of  tyrants,  and,  what  is  still  more  unbearable,  our  love 
enables  them  to  rob  us  of  honor  and  fame.  I  perceive  every 
day  more  and  more  clearly  how  difficult  our  position  is  toward 
you  ;  especially,  too,  because  we  women  refuse  to  stand  up  for 
one  another,  and  because  every  one  is  ready  to  throw  a  stone 
at  her  sister.  But  a  truce  to  complaints.  I  will  go  to  my 
father  and  rest  on  his  bosom,  draw  from  his  love  fresh  courage 
to  live,  and  steel  myself  thereby,  so  as  not  to  feel  the  thorns 
hidden  under  the  roses  of  female  fame.  Will  you  accompany 
me  to  him,  Narbonne  ?  " 

They  found  Necker  a  prey  to  unusual  agitation.  M.  de 
Calonne,  the  then  Minister  of  France,  had  lulled  both  the  court 
and  the  whole  country,  by  dint  of  golden  promises,  into  sweet 
dreams,  from  which  they  were  now  cruelly  aroused. 

The  Notables  had  been  convoked,  and  the  Minister  declared 
in  his  opening  speech  that  he  hud  found  France  hopelessly 


THE    CELEBRATED    LADY.  200 

lost,  and  had  therefore  not  hesitated  to  loosen  the  last  plank 
from  under  the  feet  of  the  Government,  because  the  emergency 
would  lead  to  reforms,  which  a  large  part  of  the  nation  would 
certainly  resist  under  different  circumstances. 

Hitherto,  he  said,  every  Minister,  including  Necker,  had  de- 
ceived both  the  King  and  the  people  ;  his  Corrtpte  Eendu,  which 
had  excited  so  much  admiration,  was  calculated  only  to  mislead 
the  reader  by  its  round  sums. 

This  charge  had  made  the  most  painful  impression  on  Necker. 
He  could  not  bear  to  have  his  character  attacked  hi  this  man- 
ner, and  he  hastened  to  justify  himself  in  a  reply  to  Calonne. 
His  daughter  warned  him  against  imprudent  precipitation  on 
this  occasion,  inasmuch  as  he  might  be  called  upon  to  take 
Calonne's  portfolio.  But  he  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  her  remon- 
strances. 

She  said  nothing  about  her  own  affairs,  not  only  because  the 
above-mentioned  event  overshadowed  them,  but  also  because 
she  forgot  herself  whenever  she  saw  her  dearly- beloved  father 
a  prey  to  pain  and  mortification.  His  affairs  were  soon  to 
grieve  her  still  more  intensely. 

Necker  presented  to  the  King  a  memorial  in  which  he  proved 
the  correctness  of  the  Compte  Rendu,  and  at  the  same  time 
caused  this  document  to  be  printed  and  circulated  all  over 
Paris.  This  step  displeased  Louis  the  Sixteenth  so  much  that 
he  ordered  him  to  remove  to  a  place  at  a  distance  of  at  least 
forty  leagues  from  the  capital. 

When  the  news  of  this  measure  reached  his  daughter,  she 
was  perfectly  beside  herself.  Her  lamentations  filled  the  whole 
palace  ;  her  servants  were  at  a  loss  to  know  how  to  render  her 
assistance ;  they  were  unable  to  comprehend  the  misfortune 
which  caused  this  boundless  grief.  Banishment  was  at  that 
time  something  so  unheard-of  that  Madame  de  Stael  could  not 


210  "MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

bear  the  thought  of  seeing  her  beloved  father  endure  the  pun- 
ishment of  a  criminal. 

As  soon  as  she  had  composed  herself,  she  ordered  her  car- 
riage and  repaired  to  the  house  of  her  parents. 

"  I  shall  accompany  you,  father  I "  she  said  to  him,  as  soon  as 
she  caught  sight  of  him.  "  Your  daughter  will  share  your  exile.' 

Necker  looked  at  her  in  profound  emotion.  He  knew  how 
dearly  she  loved  Paris,  how  much  need  she  had  of  society,  how 
difficult  it  would  be  for  her  to  leave  the  friends,  the  daily  inter- 
course with  whom  was  almost  indispensable  to  her.  His  urgent 
remonstrances  against  her  making  this  sacrifice  to  him  were 
wasted :  his  objection  that  her  husband  would  miss  her,  only 
brought  a  mournful  smile  to  her  lips. 

"  M.  de  Stael  is  content  if  he  retains  the  palace  which  we 
inhabit,"  she  replied,  with  a  slight  sneer.  "  He  will  not  miss 
me  if  I  leave  him  the  comforts  of  his  home.  But  my  friends 
will  now  be  able  to  prove  to  me  if  they  really  esteem  me,  by 
visiting  me  in  our  exile." 

Necker  had  finally  to  yield  to  her  wishes,  and  she  then  has- 
tened to  prepare  for  her  departure. 

In  the  evening,  a  small  circle  of  acquaintances  assembled  in 
her  room.  They  conversed  cheerfully,  and  it  was  not  until 
the  moment  of  parting  was  at  hand  that  her  heart  grew  heavy 
at  the  thought  that  she  might  not  meet  them  again  for  a  long 
time.  She  mournfully  shook  hands  with  all  of  them,  and 
nodded  a  parting  greeting  to  them ;  for  her  heart  could  not 
find  any  words  at  this  sad  moment.  Now  all  of  them  had  left 
her,  except  Montmorency.  He  stood  irresolutely  at  the  door, 
and  tried  to  find  suitable  words  with  which  he  might  take  leave 
of  her.  Madame  de  Stael  stood  before  him,  pale  and  silent. 

"  Germaine  ! "  he  said,  in  a  low  voice  ;  "  mny  I  accomprmy 
you  ?  " 


THE   CELEBRATED   LADY. 

«« If  my  father  will  give  you  a  seat  in  his  carriage ,"  she  re- 
plied,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  agitation,  and  dropping  h 
eyes  in  order  to  conceal  the  tears  which  filled  them. 
"  So  we  shall  not  part  yet    Au  revoir,  then." 
She  gave  him  her  hand,  which  he  pressed  respectfully  t( 

lips. 

When  the  door  closed  after  him,  she  stepped  to  the  win 
and  listened  to  the  rolling  of  his  carriage.    "  He  has  stood  1 
test,"  exclaimed  a  comforting  voice  in  her  breast,  and  s 
gratefully  lifted  her  clouded  eyes  to  the  stars.     She  then 
walked  a  long  time  yet  through  the  silent  rooms,  and  caus 
the  memories  of  the  pleasant  hours  which  she  had  spent  there 
to  pass  once  more  through  her  mind,  before  she  turned  her 
back  on  surroundings  to  which  she  had  accustomed  herself, 
and  which  were  therefore  dear  to  her. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
NECKER'S  RETURN  TO  THE  CABINET. 

IN  a  large,  well-lighted  room,  whose  windows  opened  upon 
a  garden,  there  were  several  persons  assembled  around  a  tall, 
slender,  and  still  youthful-looking  lady,  whose  ghastly  pale- 
ness indicated  that  she  was  in  very  feeble  health.  A  nervous 
twitching  of  her  features,  and  especially  of  her  mouth,  be- 
trayed her  sufferings  when  she  did  not  speak.  But,  although 
death  had  already  laid  his  heavy  finger  on  her  forehead,  she 
might  have  still  been  called  beautiful. 

M.  Nccker  had  returned  to  Paris  in  order  to  try  a  second 
time  to  save  the  State,  and  his  wife  received  this  evening  the 
congratulations  of  her  acquaintances,  wTho  hastened  to  express 
their  satisfaction  at  this  event.  Paris,  nay,  the  whole  of 
France,  exulted  with  them  to-day,  in  the  hope  that  a  new  era 
would  dawn  upon  the  suffering  country. 

Madame  Necker  smiled  kindly  at  her  husband ;  for  she  read 
in  his  eyes  how  greatly  he  rejoiced  to  find  that  his  mission 
was  not  yet  at  an  end.  He  who  has  once  tasted  the  power 
which  a  vast  field  of  action  gives  to  the  man  who  is  able  to 
conceive  and  execute  great  plans,  will  hardly  ever  return  very 
readily  and  willingly  to  the  petty  cares  of  his  own  hearth. 

All  had  seated  themselves  round  a  large  round  table,  cov- 
ered with  a  large,  gold-fringed,  velvet  cloth.  A  silver  chande- 
lier with  twelve  branches  shed  its  light  on  them.  The  young 
Swedish  Embassadress  had  chosen  her  favorite  seat,  beside  her 


NECKER'S    RETURN    TO    THE    CABINET. 

father  Her  radiant  eyes  were  fixed  on  him  while  he  spoke, 
as  if  she  wished  to  read  his  opinion  in  his  features  rather  than 
learn  it  from  his  words. 

Necker  was  now  a  man  of  forty-five,  and,  therefore,  at  the 
height  of  his  intellectual  strength.    He  seemed  to  be  talk 
than  he  really  was,  owing  to  his  heavy-set  form  and  the  erect 
manner  in  which  he  always  turned  his  head  to  heaven.    . 
high  angular  forehead  beamed  with  intelligence,  not  a  wnnk] 
was  'to  be  seen  near  his  -eyes,  and  his  whole  appearance  was 
that  of  a  man  whom  time  has  not  yet  touched.    The  glance 
his  eyes,  especially  when  they  fell  on  his  daughter,  was  sc 
gentle  and  tender,  that  too  great  mildness  might  have  been  as- 
cribed to  his  character.    Lavater  consequently  said  that  there 
was  something    feminine    about  him,  aside  from  his  great 
power  of  combination,  with  which  the  fair  sex  is  endowed  but 

very  rarely. 

Madame  Necker  alone  had  not  seated  herself;  for  somel 
past  her  feeble  health  had  not  permitted  her  to  remain  quietly  at 
the  same  spot.  So  she  wandered  from  one  of  her  guests  to  the 
other  and  sought  to  enliven  the  conversation  by  pleasant 
sallies  and  striking  remarks,  and  to  give  direction  in  keeping 
with  the  spirit  and  inclination  of  the  visitors. 

Madame  de  Stael  had  not  yet  acquired  this  art.  Endowed 
with  the  wannest  of  hearts,  she  always  remained  too  much 
a  child  of  the  moment  to  choose  her  words  cautiously  before 
they  escaped  her  lips ;  and,  without  intending  to  offend  others, 
she  did  so  in  a  thousand  little  ways,  before  she  herself  was 
aware  of  it.  Such  was  the  case  to-day,  too. 

She  had  just  begun  to  relate  the  story  of  the  portrait  of 
Charles  the  First,  which  Count  d'Artois  had  secretly  put  into 
the  King's  room  on  the  day  when  Necker  had  advised  the 
King  to  convoke  the  States-General.  She  entirely  overlooked 


214  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

for  the  moment  the  fact  that  this  anecdote  could  not  be  very 
agreeable  to  her  father's  ears.  Carried  away  by  the  subject,  as 
was  always  the  case  with  her,  she  related  the  occurrence  with 
the  utmost  animation,  which  was  even  enhanced  when  she  de- 
picted the  blindness  of  the  members  of  the  royal  family,  who 
regarded  as  fatal  a  measure  which  was  proposed  only  for  their 
salvation,  and  would  have  certainly  led  to  it,  if  they,  instead 
of  submitting  to  the  stern  voice  of  necessity,  had  taken  the  step 
of  their  own  accord. 

"  My  father  alone  showed  them  the  road  to  salvation,"  added 
the  young  Embassadress,  in  a  loud  voice.  "  And  what  do  you 
believe  Count  d'Artois  did  when  he  found  that  his  hint  was 
disregarded  ?  He  caused  the  picture  to  be  removed  from  the 
King's  room,  and  had  placed  in  its  stead  a  copper-plate,  repre- 
senting the  execution  of  Charles  the  First." 

"  What  did  the  King  say  to  it?"  inquired  Marmontel. 

"  Nothing.  He  disregarded  the  second  hint,  too.  But  is  it 
not  strange  that  ignorance,  nay,  stupidity,  should  be  coupled 
with  so  much  audacity  ?  " 

Here  she  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  new  guest. 
The  footman  announced  the  Marquise  de  Sillery,  and  the 
Countess  de  Genlis  entered  the  room. 

There  was  a  general  pause. 

Madame  Necker  went  to  meet  her,  took  her  by  the  hand, 
and  conducted  her  to  a  seat,  where  she  conversed  with  her  in 
the  most  polite  and  amiable  manner.  Madame  de  Stael  did 
not  follow  her  example.  She  rose  and  joined  a  group  of  gen- 
tlemen. Since  she  had  visited  the  celebrated  lady  at  Belle 
CliasBe,  her  opinion  about  Madame  de  Genlis  had  undergone  a 
marked  change.  At  that  time  her  mother  had  taken  her  to 
the  chateau  in  order  to  present  her  to  the  authoress  of  "  Adele 
and  Theodore,"  a  book  which  had  just  filled  her  with  the 


STECKEB'S  BETUBET  TO  THE  CABINET. 

liveliest  enthusiasm,  and  made  her  desirous  of  paying  to  tha 
authoress  the  tribute  of  her  heartfelt  admiration.    Wit! 
much  enthusiasm  had  Germaine  bowed  to  the  celebrated 
and  kissed  the  hand  to  which  she  was  indebted  for  so  many 
delightful  hours.    The  years  which  had  gone  by  since 
had  cooled  this  ardor. 

Madame  de  Genlis  had  publicly  spoken  with  much  bitterness 
of  the  Necker  family,  and  had  frequently  censured  its  members. 
Her  remarks  were  communicated  to  those  at  whom  they  were 
aimed,  and  Madame  de  Stael  had  not  forgotten  them, 
easily  forgave  personal  insults;  she  knew  neither  hatred  nor 
revenge  when  she  herself  was  concerned ;  but  such  was  not  the 
case  when  her  parents  were  attacked  and  insulted.    Aninjusti 
done  them,  wounded  her  too  deeply  to  ever  be  forgotten  agam. 
She  therefore,  now  took  her  father's  arm,  and  caused  him  t 
participate  in  the  conversation  into  which  she  had  entered. 
Without  being  beautiful,  she  seemed  to  be  so  to-day, 
wore  a  plain  black-velvet  dress,  which  set  off  her  beaut, 
arms  and  hands  to  great  advantage ;  her  eyes  beamed  witl 
ial  love  and  ardent  enthusiasm  for  all  that  is  good  and  beaut 
ful-  and  youth  with  its  hopefulness  and  happiness  shed  over 
everything  that  inimitable  charm  which  later  years  never  arc 
able  to  assume.    She  was  to-day  the  archetype  of  Corinne. 

The  conversation  between  Madame  de  Genlis  and  Madame 
Necker  had  meanwhile  become  quite  animated,  and  Voltaire' 
name  fell  on  Germaine's  ears.  Dominated,  as  usual,  by  the  im- 
pulses of  the  moment,  Madame  de  Stael  was  anxious  to  know 
What  the  two  ladies  were  speaking  of,  and  she  immediately  ap- 
proached them  in  order  to  listen  to  their  conversation. 

Madame  de  Genlis  seemed  to  be  greatly  excited,  her  beaut, 
eyes  were  radiant,  and  her  quivering  features  showed  that  t 
eubject  of  the  conversation  was  by  no  means  indifferent 


216  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

her.  Madame  Necker,  in  her  plain  white  dress  •without  any 
ornaments,  gentle  and  well-poised  in  tone  and  bearing,  pre- 
sented ijQt  every  respect  a  marked  contrast  to  the  distinguished 
lady  who  was  standing  before  her,  and  dissented  from  an 
opinion  which  Madame  Necker  had  uttered  in  regard  to  the 
illustrious  author  of  the  Hcnriade. 

"  You  say  that  Voltaire  was  simple-minded,"  said  Madame 
de  Genlis ;  "  that  assertion  is  at  variance  with  what  I  saw 
about  him  at  Ferney,  especially  with  that  abominable  picture 
in  which  he  sits  enthroned  in  the  clouds,  while  his  feet  rest  on 
a  number  of  persons  who  incurred  his  displeasure.  He  hung 
this  abominable  daub  in  his  study,  and  banished  a  magnificent 
Correggio  to  the  ante-room,  where  no  sunbeam  could  fall  on  it. 
Ott,  the  German  painter,  was  with  me  at  Ferney.  He  saw 
that  abomination,  too.  Do  you  call  that  simple-minded  ? " 

"  You  have  misunderstood  me,  Madame,"  replied  Madame 
Necker.  "  When  I  said  simple-minded,  I  meant  that  he  was 
natural  and  unaffected.  To  prove  this  assertion,  permit  me 
to  read  to  you  a  letter  which  he  wrote  to  me  in  regard  to  his 
statue." 

She  hastened  into  the  adjoining  room  and  returned  pres- 
ently with  a  letter,  which  she  read  aloud.  It  was  as  follows : 

"  I  am  sixty  years  old,  Madame,  and  have  scarce^  recov- 
ered from  a  dangerous  malady.  M.  Pigalle,  I  have  been  told, 
is  to  take  a  cast  of  my  face  ;  but,  Madame,  is  it  not,  first  of  all, 
necessary  for  that  purpose  that  I  should  have  a  face  ?  You 
would  now  scarcely  find  the  place  where  it  formerly  was ;  my 
eyes  lie  three  inches  deep  in  their  sockets ;  my  cheeks  resem- 
ble old  parchment  thrown  loosely  over  my  bones  ;  and  my  few 
teeth  are  loose  in  my  mouth.  What  I  tell  you  here  is  not  an 
expression  of  my  vanity,  but  simply  the  truth.  Never  has  a 
man  in  my  condition  sat  to  a  sculptor ;  M.  Pigalle  would 


NECKEK'S  RETUBN  TO  THE  CABINET.          217 

think  that  we  intended  to  mock  him,  and  I  must  confess  that 

my  self-respect  does  not  permit  me  to  expose  myself  in  this 

condition  to  his  view,"  etc. 
"  Now,"  asked  Madame  Necker,  after  reading  these  lines, 

« the  man  who  wrote  these  lines,  I  should  think,  must  have 

been  entirely  exempt  from  vanity." 
"  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  replied  Madame  de  Genlis,  smiling, 

"  that  you  have  not  converted  me  yet.    I  regret  to  differ  with 

you,  be'cause  I  esteem  you  too  highly  not  to  derive  the  utmost 

satisfaction  from  a  concurrence  of  our  views ;  but  this  time  I 

am  unable  to  change  my  opinion." 

She  said  this  in  such  an  amiable  and  polite  manner  that 

Madame  Necker,  who  felt  quite  flattered,  offered  her  hand  to 
Madame  de  Genlis,  as  if  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation,  and 
begged  her  to  forget  their  little  quarrel. 

«  Considering  my  admiration  of  every  great  talent,  you  must 
forgive  me  for  warmly  espousing  the  cause  of  absent  persons, 
and  still  more  that  of  the  dead,"  she  said,  kindly.  Le*  ahunt* 
out  loujours  tort.  Death  strengthens  every  friendship,  inas- 
much as  it  immortalizes  the  virtues  of  the  person  who  is  deai 
to  us ;  it  immortalizes  them  at  least  in  our  hearts."  * 

"  We  may  be  content  if  we  leave  such  friends  behind,"  po- 
litely replied  Madame  de  Genlis,  approaching  the  door,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  custom  prevailing  at  that  period,  as  quietly 
as  possible,  in  order  to  leave  the  room  without  disturbing  the 

company. 

As  soon  as  the  door  had  closed  after  her,  several  persons,  es 
pecially  Madame  de  Stael,  began  to  censure  her  in  unmeasured 
terms.    They  laughed  at  Madame  de  Genlis'  visit  to  Fcrney, 
and  at  the  reception  with  which  she  had  met  at  the  hands  of 
the  Patriarch.     All  the  world  was  familiar  with  the  particulara 

*  "  Melanges  de  Madame  Necker." 
10 


218  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

of  this  curious  scene,  and  everybody  took  pains  to  deride  the 
lady  by  commenting  on  it  sarcastically. 

"  How  could  Voltaire  receive  so  illustrious  a  lady  without 
shedding  tears  of  profound  emotion  ?  "  said  one. 

"  Did  she  not  wear  ostrich  plumes  ?  "  asked  another. 

"  Which  fell  from  her  head  as  she  had  to  go  on  foot  up  the 
long  alley,"  said  a  third. 

"  But,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  he  kissed  her." 

"  Yes,  but  rather  coldly ;  what  good  did  his  kiss  do  her 
then?" 

"How  could  he  remain  unmoved  when  she  was  accom- 
panied by  Ott,  the  German,  who  is  said  to  be  a  celebrated 
painter,"  interposed  Madame  de  Stael. 

Madame  Necker  said  nothing,  but  glanced  reproachfully  at 
her  daughter.  She  disapproved  this  tone,  and  could  not  bear 
to  see  society  revenge  itself  in  this  manner  on  an  absent  per- 
son. "  If  death  should  overtake  a  person  in  this  occupation," 
she  would  say,  "  with  what  face  would  he  appear  in  eternity  ?  " 

M.  Necker  knew  his  wife*  too  well  not  to  perceive  that  this 
conversation  was  distasteful  to  her,  and,  always  anxious  to 
shield  her  from  painful  impressions,  he  adroitly  managed  to 
break  off  this  conversation. 

"  Madame  de  Genlis  is  perfectly  justified  in  complaining  of 
Voltaire,"  he  said.  "  What  did  Raynal  say  in  his  sermon  ? 
The  truths  of  Christianity  are  so  self-evident  that  Jupiter  him- 
self would  have  been  converted  if  he  had  heard  them." 

"  Excellent ! "  exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael.  "  Excellent ! 
Our  dear  Raynal  would  have  robbed  us  by  his  eloquence  of  the 
whole  Olympus,  if  the  gods  had  been  his  contemporaries.  I<e 
Silence  du  Peuple  est  la  Lefon  des  Hois!  How  astonished  his 
audience  must  have  been  at  such  striking  arguments.  The 
hurler  of  thunderbolts  a  penitent  of  the  Abbe  Raynal ! " 


NECKER'S  RETDRX  TO  THE  CABINET.          219 

"  The  ruler  of  Olympus  \vcukl  have  burdened  his  discreet 
ears  with  a  rather  long  list  of  sins,"  said  Necker,  smiling. 

" But  we  must  not  forget  that  Jupiter  had  delayed  his  con- 
fession a  long  time,"  remarked  his  wife,  who  was  very  glad  of 
the  turn  which  the  conversation  had  taken.  "  This  reminds 
me  of  the  old  lady  who  came  to  Fontenelle  and  addressed 
him  as  follows,  '  Well  monsieur,  we  still  live  1'  '  Hush,'  said 
Fontenelle,  laying  his  finger  on  his  lips,  ''let  us  say  no  more 
about  it,  Madame ;  they  have  forgotten  us.' " 

"  That  would  not  be  so  bad,"  exclaimed  Marmontel,  laugh- 
ing. "  It  would  not  be  so  disagreeable  to  me  to  play  at  hide- 
and-seek  with  death.  I  do  not  say,  like  Maupertuis,  that  I  am 
as  pale  as  death,  and  as  sad  as  life.  I  still  like  this  world,  de- 
spite its  imperfections." 

"  Your  appearance  shows  that  very  plainly,"  replied  Necker, 
casting  a  jocular  glance  on  his  corpulent  figure.  "  But  this 
reminds  me  of  a  still  better  anecdote.  A  Capuchin  preached 
one  day  on  the  marvels  of  nature.  '  My  brethren,'  he  said, 
'you  wonder  at  many  tilings,  while  others  that  are  by  far 
more  important  seem  not  to  affect  you  at  all.  Thus,  for  in- 
stance, you  admire  the  sun,  and  appreciate  the  moon  but  very 
little ;  and  yet  the  latter  sheds  her  rays  over  you  when  the 
darkness  of  night  would  frighten  you;  while  the  sun  shines 
only  in  broad  daylight.'  His  hearers  thenceforth  treated  the 
moon  more  justly  than  before." 

"  The  Capuchin  was  a  savant,"  exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael. 
"  "We  ought  to  have  made  him  acquainted  with  Buffon." 

"  Great  errors  always  go  hand  in  hand,"  interposed  Madame 
Necker.  "  Do  you  not  know  the  story  of  the  drunkard  who 
invited  a  guest,  and,  wondering  why  he  did  not  touch  the  bot- 
tle, asked  him  why  he  did  not  drink?  'Because  I  am  not 
thirsty,'  replied  his  guest.  '  In  what,  way  do  you  differ,  then, 


220  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

from   the  animals  which  drink  only  when  thirst  torments 
them  ? '     Of  course  he  was  unable  to  answer  that  question." 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  said  Necker.  "  The  man  was  right, 
although  he  was  wrong.  He  reminds  me  of  Buffon,  who  knows 
the  universe,  but  not  the  world.  Now,  the  more  extensive  our 
knowledge,  the  more  easily  do  we  reach  those  limits  where  we 
are  unable  to  make  replies." 

"  Or  shall  not  get  any  either,"  interrupted  his  daughter. 
"  When  God  gave  reason  to  man,  he  called  upon  him  to  battle 
with  truth  and  for  truth.  Providence,  therefore,  has  laid  into 
our  hearts  all  necessary  incentives  to  research  and  investigation. 
It  wants  us  to  be  inquisitive  and  active.  It  may  be  imposed 
on  us  for  the  welfare  of  all  to  risk  our  thoughts,  our  most  pre- 
cious capital,  in  a  great  cause;  but  it  is  difficult  to  find  and 
rivet  in  the  labyrinth  of  our  mind  the  point  which  marks  the 
truth  ;  hence,  we  say,  to  err  is  human." 

Her  eyes  were  radiant ;  she  raised  them  in  her  enthusiasm  to 
the  ceiling,  and  seemed  to  have  entirely  forgotten  her  surround- 
ings. Her  father  drew  her  gently  to  him,  and  gazed  at  her  with 
a  tender  expression. 

"As  with  truth,  so  it  is  with  our  happiness,"  she  continued. 
"  All  of  us  seek  it,  and  who  would  confess  that  he  has  found 
it?  There  are  on  earth  still  many  flowers  which  we  arc 
destined  to  gather ;  but  the  most  beautiful  flower  is  withheld 
from  us ;  its  color  is  red,  deep  red,  and  its  name  is  love." 

She  had  uttered  these  words  as  if  absently.  Suddenly  a  deep 
blush  mantled  her  cheeks;  she  turned  her  eyes  in  great  confu- 
sion toward  M.  de  Narbonue,  whose  glance  she  caught,  and,  as 
if  ashamed  of  herself,  concealed  her  face  on  her  father's  breast. 

Madame  Necker  knit  her  beautiful  brows  slightly. 

"  You  have  not  yet  redeemed  your  promise,  M.  Murmontel," 
she  said,  turning  to  the  poet,  "  to  recite  tp  us  the  beautiful  ode 


NECKER'S  RETURN  TO  THE  CABINET.  221 

which  j*ou  have  written  on  the  death  of  Leopold,  Duke  of 
Brunswick,  who  perished  in  the  waters  of  the  Oder." 

"  Pray  excuse  me,"  replied  the  poet.  "  I  assure  you  I  have 
forgotten  the  lines." 

"  Oh,  Marmontel,  how  could  you  permit  your  memory  this 
perfidy  in  regard  to  so  beautiful  a  subject  ?  "  interposed  Madame 
cle  Stael.  "  The  deed  of  that  Prince  is  so  great  and  noble,  that 
a  crown  would  have  henceforth  been  an  inadequate  ornament 
to  his  brow.  What  a  great  heart  of  his  it  was  that  impelled 
him  to  plunge  into  the  waters  of  the  raging  river  in  order  to 
rescue  two  victims  !  And  this  great  heart  had  grown  up  in  the 
shade  of  peace !  When  Caesar  entered  a  boat  and  braved  the 
howling  storm,  he  was  on  his  way  to  Rome,  the  mistress  of 
the  world.  He  risked  his  life  on  the  waves  on  which  he  might 
win  a  throne.  But  Leopold  of  Brunswick  !  Wheat  was  beck- 
oning to  him  when  he  plunged  into  the  Oder?  Only  two  poor 
wretches  who  stretched  out  their  arms  toward  him.  He  heard 
their  cries,  and  the  noble  young  man  braved  the  perilous 
storm  without  asking  if  he  should  have  to  do  so  alone.  And 
he  did  so  alone.  His  hands  were  full  of  gold  ;  he  offered  it  to 
the  bystanders.  Oh  Marmontel,  Marmontel,  pray  recite  your 
verses ! " 

All  had  listened  to  her  with  growing  agitation.  The  profound 
emotion  depicted  on  her  features,  the  tears  gushing  from  her 
radiant  eyes,  had  added  to  the  excitement  of  the  guests ;  and 
when  she  now  paused,  she  trembled  with  inward  emotion,  and 
none  of  her  hearers  were  able  to  make  immediately  a  suitable 
reply.  Madame  de  Stael  had  risen  while  she  was  speaking ; 
now  she  seated  herself  again  beside  her  father,  leaned  her  head 
thoughtfully  on  his  shoulder,  and  was  absorbed  in  the  remem- 
brance of  the  event  which  had  taken  place  but  a  few  weeks 
ago.  When  she  looked  up,  she  met  her  mother's  eye,  whose 


222  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

disapproving  expression  made  a  painful  impression  on  her 
She  dropped  her  eyes  and  left  her  seat.  M.  de  Montmorency 
followed  her,  and  pressed  her  hands  to  his  lips  with  an  expres- 
sion of  ardent  admiration.  She  sighed. 

"  You  know  what  it  is  to  sacrifice  one's  self  to  a  great  idea," 
she  said.  "  Men  find  satisfaction  and  happiness  in  them.  But 
I  have  need  of  love,  fervent  love,  and  all  around  me  is  so  cold," 
she  added,  in  a  low  voice. 

Her  mother's  manner  and  peculiarities  weighed  her  down  all 
the  time ;  they  impeded  her  at  every  word,  at  every  step  in 
her  life-path ;  and,  although  her  position  had  now  seemingly 
become  an  independent  one,  her  heart  constantly  yearned  for 
her  father,  who  alone  loved  and  understood  her,  as  she  wished 
to  be  loved  and  understood,  but  who,  like  herself,  in  his  con- 
duct toward  his  wife,  had  to  submit  to  certain  restraints  which 
were  the  more  painful  to  him  as  he  felt  that  they  grieved  his 
child. 

Three  of  the  most  excellent  persons  who  highly  esteemed 
and  tenderly  loved  one  another  were  unable  to  find  in  their 
domestic  circle  that  happiness  which  beckoned  to  none  of 
them  without.  It  is  not  circumstances  that  render  us  happy 
and  contented ;  it  is  not  wealth  or  poverty  that  gnaw  at  the 
peace  of  our  heart ;  but  the  source  from  which  our  happiness 
springs  lies  hidden  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  that  heart.  We 
may  change  our  relations  to  men,  but  we  cannot  change  our- 
selves. 

Supper  was  now  announced.  How  often  had  this  message 
already  made  peace  between  the  contending  parties,  especially 
when  they  talked  politics,  which  was  now  but  too  often  the 
case.  Madame  Necker  was  decidedly  averse  to  these  excited 
discussions  in  her  salon;  she  would  not  allow  the  ladies  to  par- 
ticipate in  that  which  should  have  engrossed  the  thoughts  of 


NECKER'S  RETURN  TO  THE  CABINET.  223 

the  men  alone.  Madame  cle  Stael,  however,  took  the  liveliest 
interest  in  them  ;  a  worthy  pupil  of  Rousseau,  she  was  an  en 
thusiastic  advocate  of  the  liberty  and  happiness  of  the  people; 
her  great  heart  would  not  acquiesce  in  the  idea  that  power 
and  right  were  inseparable,  and  that  only  those  had  to  obey 
the  laws  who  were  unable  to  defy  them.  Justice  for  all,  was 
her  motto. 

Champagne  sparkled  in  the  glasses ;  witticisms  were  uttered 
here  and  there ;  the  guests  chatted  merrily  about  theaters,  litera- 
ture, and  art ;  they  called  Shakespeare  a  barbarian,  and  pro- 
nounced his  dramatic  works  coarse  and  in  bad  taste ;  while 
"  Attila"  was  praised  as  a  master-piece  of  poetical  genius;  and 
hi  the  meantime  the  pale  and  beautiful  lady  of  the  house 
moved  around  the  table  like  a  fragrant  shade,  dropping  a  word 
now  here,  and  now  there,  and  always  taking  pains  to  keep  the 
conversation  within  the  bounds  of  etiquette  and  propriety. 

Madame  Necker  recited  the  description  of  a  character,  and 
the  guests  had  to  guess  who  it  was  that  was  thus  portrayed — an 
exceedingly  popular  pastime  at  that  period.  Usually  a  mem- 
ber of  the  company  was  selected  for  this  purpose,  and  adorned 
in  the  most  flattering  manner  with  many  virtues.  Several  per- 
sons then  improvised  and  offered  toasts.  Marmontel  displayed 
his  brilliant  talents  on  such  occasions  to  great  advantage ;  the 
word  champagne  being  proposed  to  him,  he  immediately  im- 
provised the  following  lines : 


1  Champagne,  ami  de  la  folie, 
Fais  qu'un  moment  Necker  J'oublie, 
Comme  en  buvant  faisait  Caton  ; 
Ce  sera  le  jour  de  la  gloire : 
Tu  n'as  jamais  sur  la  raison 
Gagne  de  plus  belle  victoire." 


All  praised  him,  laughed  at  the  clever  allusion,  and  drank 
to  Necker's  return  to  the  Cabinet. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    WINTER    OP    1788. 

THE  winter  of  the  year  1788  was  at  hand.  An  exceedingly 
dry  summer  was  followed  by  short  crops  and  hard  times.  The 
Government  offered  liberal  prizes  for  the  importation  of  grain, 
and  stimulated  it  by  all  means  at  its  command.  The  Seine 
froze  over  already  on  the  26th  of  November,  and  Reaumur's 
thermometer  was  at  18%  degrees  below  zero. 

The  oldest  inhabitant  could  not  call  to  mind  a  winter  of 
equal  severity  and  duration. 

The  high  price  of  bread  caused  more  and  more  discontent ; 
several  riots  took  place,  and  the  police  had  to  interfere  very 
often,  and  to  protect  the  bakers  from  violence.  Such  was  the 
general  dissatisfaction  that  everybody  was  intent  on  exposing 
abuses,  and  nobody  showed  the  necessary  patience  to  wait  for 
the  introduction  of  reforms. 

Necker  had  not  returned  to  the  cabinet  in  a  joyous  and 
hopeful  spirit.  He  now  came  to  his  daughter  with  a  clouded 
brow.  She  discovered  his  depression  at  a  glance.  He  sank 
exhausted  into  an  arm-chair,  and  rubbed  his  hands  before  the 
blazing  fire  in  the  fire-place. 

His  daughter  seated  herself  beside  him. 

"This  abominable  distrust!"  he  now  burst  forth.  "The 
King  has  appointed  me  Minister  against  his  will,  which  he  lets 
me  feel  now  at  every  step,  and  Marie  Antoinette  even  insists 
on  being  present  at  the  sittings  of  the  Cabinet.  If  France  is  to 


THE   WINTER   OF   1788.  225 

obtain  relief  in  this  manner,  her  prospects  are  extremely 
gloomy." 

"  I  told  you  already  that  the  Queen  received  me  more  fri- 
gidly than  ever  before,"  replied  Madame  de  Stael ;  "  and,  to 
add  to  my  mortification,  she  even  prefers  M.  de  Brienne'a 
daughter  to  me  in  the  most  offensive  manner.  It  is  evident 
that  she  detests  us." 

"  It  is  very  unfortunate  for  her  that  she  does.  If  she  had 
confidence  in  me,  how  much  useful  advice  I  might  have  given 
her !  At  all  events,  I  should  have  told  her  the  truth.  The 
people  now  loudly  call  her  Madame  Deficit,  and  unjustly 
charge  her  with  having  brought  about  the  enormous  indebted- 
ness of  the  country.  That  unfortunate  necklace  affair  had 
made  her  already  exceedingly  unpopular ;  but  the  people  now 
dislike  her  more  than  ever  before.  Last  Sunday  the  boys 
shouted  under  her  windows :  '  We  are  going  to  St.  Cloud,  in 
order  to  see  the  fountains  and  T Autrichienne?  The  King  is  in 
a  perfect  tempest  of  perplexity.  In  his  rage  he  has  already 
broken  several  chairs,  but  no  bright  idea  h«s  occurred  to  him 
yet.  He  is  unable  to  adapt  himself  to  the  spirit  of  the  times. 
He  sees  the  people  shake  the  royal  prerogatives,  and  perceives 
also  that  the  nimbus  which  formerly  surrounded  the  nobility 
of  birth  has  vanished;  and  the  prospect  frightens  him." 

"Because  he  has  been  blind  so  long,"  exclaimed  Madame 
de  Stael.  "  Did  he  not  himself,  both  in  Holland  and  America, 
arm  subjects  against  their  sovereigns  ?  And  now  he  is  sur- 
prised to  see  that  the  people  of  his  own  country  at  length 
awake  to  consciousness,  and  that  those  who  hitherto  were 
slaves,  rise  to  the  dignity  of  freemen.  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
glad  I  am  that  the  States-General  are  to  meet  next  May." 

"  You  are  aware  that  I  do  not  share  your  opinion  in  this  re- 
spect," said  Necker.  "  In  order  not  to  forfeit  the  confidence 


226  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

of  the  people,  I  could  not  oppose  a  measure  which  my  prede- 
cessor had  proposed.  But  I  am  afraid  of  the  consequences. 
The  people  of  France  are  not,  like  that  of  England,  capable  of 
self-government.  As  a  nation  it  is  too  young ;  it  is  still  in  the 
leading-strings.  Every  form  of  government,  moreover,  has  its 
advantages,  provided  it  performs  what  it  promises.  With 
honest  men  at  the  helm,  the  Ship  of  State  will  always  remain 
in  the  right  channel." 

"  But  what  if  the  honest  men  are  wanting  ?  In  that  event 
we  must  be  protected  by  a  constitution,  and  I  hope  we  are 
now  in  a  fair  way  of  securing  the  welfare  of  France  by  legisla- 
tive means." 

"  You  are  hopeful  because  you  see  the  difficulties  only  at  a 
distance.  A  Minister's  daughter  shares  only  the  advantages 
of  his  position.*  She  basks  in  the  sunshine  of  his  power ;  but 
that  power  at  this  juncture  imposes  a  terrible  responsibility  on 
his  head.  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  be  useful  to  France  under 
the  present  circumstances  ;  I  think  that  honesty  is  the  best 
policy,  and  I  detest^rooked  ways ;  and  yet,  in  a  struggle  with  po- 
litical faction,  it  is  advisable  not  to  disdain  the  means  by  which 
we  might  secure  the  assistance  of  their  leaders.  My  aversion 
to  such  a  policy  cannot  but  lead  to  my  downfall.  Ah,  why 
did  they  not  give  me  the  fifteen  months  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Sens !  f  Now  it  is  too  late." 

"It  cannot  be  too  late,"  exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael, 
warmly.  "  I  have  confidence  as  long  as  you  are  at  the  helm 
of  government.  Only  you  yourself  must  not  lose  heart." 

"When  I  resigned  my  portfolio  the  first  time,  I  censured  my- 
self severely  for  the  step,  inasmuch  as  I  knew  that  no  one  was 
able  to  replace  me.  Now,  many  persons  might  act  more  vig- 

*  "  Madame  de  Stael :  Consideration  sur  la  Revolution." 
t  Necker's  own  words. 


THE   WINTER   OF  1788,  227 

orously  in  my  place.  I  lack  confidence,  and  hence,  also,  the 
strength  to  carry  ray  views  into  execution.  Last  night  I  re- 
flected a  great  deal  as  to  what  satisfied  men ;  and  I  found  that, 
at  bottom,  only  stupid  persons  are  happy.  When  I  have 
again  leisure  to  live  for  myself,  I  shall  complete  my  essay  on 
the  happiness  of  blockheads.*  Stupid  persons  really  still 
wear  the  garb  in  which  God  clad  Adam  and  Eve  in  Paradise; 
the  cloak  under  which  they  hid  their  nakedness  were  the 
pleasant  illusions,  the  sweet  confidence  and  self-opinion  which 
we  censure  now  because  we  do  not  appreciate  their  value. 
A  stupid  man  is  never  guided  by  experience  ;  even  though  he 
should  reach  an  age  of  two  hundred  years,  he  would  still  see 
the  world  in  the  same  rose-colored  light.  He  draws  no  infer- 
ences, follows  up  neither  cause  nor  effect,  does  not  look  be- 
yond his  nose,  and  looks  forward  to  the  future  with  the  noaeete 
of  a  child. 

"  Stupid  persons  never  doubt  their  own  strength  and  saga- 
city. They  are  inaccessible  to  the  ideas  of  others,  stick  obstin- 
ately to  their  views,  and  pass  opinions  on  everything  with 
the  utmost  promptness,  because  it  seems  to  them  that  every- 
thing has  but  one  side. 

"  Hence,  stupidity  is  a  source  of  great  happiness,  and  a  con- 
siderable advantage.  But  when  the  slightest  idea  about  the 
true  sources  of  his  happiness  occurs  to  the  stupid  man,  his 
happiness  is  at  an  end,  his  self-love  is  disturbed,  and  he  will 
never  again  repose  any  confidence  in  himself.  He  is  then  a 
very  wretched  creature." 

Madame  de  Stael  burst  into  loud  laughter  at  this  serio-comic 
definition. 

"  In  truth,  I  almost  wish  I  could  get  rid  of  what  little  un- 
derstanding I  possess,"  she  exclaimed,  merrily ;  "  because  it  de- 
*  -'Le  Bonheurdes  Sots."  Necker's  sprightly  essay. 


228  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

prives  me  of  so  many  joys;  but,  above  all  things,  I  should  like 
to  make  the  very  embodiment  of  stupidity  Prime-Minister  of 
France,  in  order  that  a  man  of  true  self-reliance  might  be  at 
the  head  of  government.  But  I  am  afraid  the  capitalists 
would  not  throw  their  money  into  his  lap,  nor  would  stocks 
rise  thirty  per  cent,  twenty-four  hours  after  his  appointment. 
Such  an  event  occurs  but  once  in  history,  and  fortunately  I 
was  the  daughter  of  the  man  in  whom  this  extraordinary  con- 
fidence was  reposed." 

Keeker,  greatly  pleased  with  this  clever  little  flattery,  smiled, 
and  held  out  his  hand  to  his  daughter,  who  pressed  it  warmly 
to  her  lips. 

"  Now  I  have  to  communicate  yet  a  singular  event  to  you," 
he  said.  "  You  are  aware  people  said  that  the  gifted  Bishop 
of  Autun  had  assisted  Minister  Calonne  in  his  labors ;  and 
others  said  that  he  was  the  author  of  an  excellent  pamphlet 
defending  my  Compte  Rendu.  What  surprised  me  in  regard  to 
the  latter,  was  the  fact  that  the  pamphlet  in  question  was  sent 
to  me  anonymously,  while  the  Bishop  of  Autun  at  the  same 
time  caused  me  to  be  asked  if  I  would  permit  him  to  make 
my  acquaintance.  I  must  confess  that  I  was  anxious  to  see 
the  versatile  man.  Well,  then,  this  morning,  accompanied  by 
Condbrcet,  he  called  at  my  office." 

"  And  what  impression  did  he  make  on  you  ?  Did  you  like 
him  ?  "  asked  his  daughter,  eagerly. 

"  I  am  glad  I  was  a  man,"  replied  Necker,  with  a  sarcastic 
smile;  "  for  his  reputation  is  by  no  means  undeserved.  Pre- 
possessing and  gifted  as  M.  de  Narbonne  is,  Talleyrand  eclipses 
him  in  every  respect.  I  have  invited  him  to  dinner.  So  you 
will  be  able  to  get  acquainted  with  him." 

"  I  must  confess  that  I  am  anxious  to  do  so,"  replied  Mad- 
ame de  Stael.  "  A  young  Bishop  who,  to  all  appearance,  ia 


THE   WINTER   OF   1788.  229 

engaged  only  in  stealing  the  hearts  of  the  ladies,  suddenly 
meddles  with  financial  affairs.  That  is  very  singular  indeed." 

"  And  that  is  not  all.  He  spoke  very  gravely  about  our  po- 
litical affairs,  and  dwelt  on  the  necessity  of  curtailing  the  pre- 
rogatives of  the  clergy  and  nobility.  Inasmuch  as  he  com- 
bines both  classes  in  his  person,  and  cannot  but  lose  heavily  if 
we  curtail  their  privileges,  his  disinterestedness  astonished  me 
beyond  measure." 

"  Nor  do  I  repose  any  confidence  hi  such  disinterestedness," 
exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael. 

"  And  yet  Lafayette  has  shown  that  one  may  honestly  prefer 
the  welfare  of  the  people  to  one's  own  interest." 

"  The  exception  here  only  proves  the  rule.  I  am  sure  Mont- 
morency  is  animated  by  the  same  spirit.  He  wants  merit  alone 
to  mark  the  various  grades  of  society." 

"  I  think  St.  Jerome  was  right  in  saying  that  wealth  alone 
was  the  origin  of  nobility ;  and  it  is  certainly  a  hazardous  un- 
dertaking to  dig  new  beds  to  the  rivers,"  said  Necker,  gravely. 
"  But  the  everlasting  discussion  of  this  question  will  lead  to 
nothing.  We  are  unable  to  create  new  social  relations  by 
laws  and  revolutions ;  they  must  spring  up  from  the  ground  ; 
and  if  the  soil  is  healthy,  the  fruit  will  be  in  keeping  with  it. 
First  let  us  regulate  the  disordered  state  of  our  finances  and 
give  bread  to  our  people,  and  then  we  shall  see  about  further 
reforms." 

He  rose.  His  daughter  accompanied  him  to  the  ante-room, 
and,  at  parting,  promised  to  dine  with  him. 

M.  de  Stael  did  not  accompany  her  to  the  house  of  her 
parents.  He  dined  with  M'lle  Clairon,  for  whom  he  had  pur- 
chased a  very  fine  villa,  which  he  had  not  yet  paid  for. 
His  wife  being  very  wealthy,  he  spent  her  money  very  freely, 
until  Necker  finally  put  an  end  to  his  extravagance.  Ger- 


230  MADAME   1>E   STAEL. 

maiue  did  not  find  an  affectionate  protector  in  her  much  older 
husband;  she  had  to  pursue  her  path  alone  through  the  bustle 
and  commotion  of  Parisian  life,  where  at  this  juncture  no  head 
was  any  longer  in  its  right  place,  and  all  minds  had  fallen  a 
prey  to  a  fermentation  which  mixed  up  all  ideas  prevalent  up 
to  that  time  in  a  motley  chaos. 

The  young  Bishop  of  Autun  was  introduced  to  the  Swedish 
Embassadress.  A  certain  apathy  which  characterized  his 
whole  being  was  to  be  noticed,  too,  in  the  somewhat  languid 
expression  of  his  blue  eyes,  as  he  fixed  them  searchingly  on 
the  face  of  Madame  de  Stael,  of  whose  talents  he  had  heard 
the  most  enthusiastic  accounts.  In  fact,  after  the  appearance 
of  her  work  on  Rousseau,  no  one  ventured  any  longer  to  ques- 
tion her  ability,  and  many  persons  now  visited  Necker's  house 
only  for  the  purpose  of  getting  acquainted  with  his  daughter. 
It  was  suspected  that  the  young  bishop  had  caused  himself  to 
be  introduced  to  the  Minister  for  the  same  reason ;  the  expres- 
sion of  his  face,  however,  did  not  betray  this  desire.  With 
that  reserve  of  manner  which  imparts  an  indisputable  superi- 
ority to  men  who  are  able  to  assume  it,  he  addressed  a  few 
polite  words  to  the  young  Embassadress,  and,  when  they  were 
about  to  go  to  the  dinner-table,  he  courteously,  but  rather 
coldly,  offered  her  his  arm. 

"  You  dislike  my  class,  and  I  venture  to  seat  myself  beside 
you,"  he  said,  with  his  half  sarcastic,  half  malicious  smile,  which 
added  to  the  prepossessing  expression  of  his  face,  while  his 
delicate  white  hands  coquettishly  unfolded  his  napkin. 

"You  are  mistaken,"  she  replied,  fixing  her  radiant  dark 
eyes  on  him,  as  if  she  wished  to  penetrate  the  inmost  recesses 
of  his  heart.  "  Every  class  has  legitimate  claims  to  recogni- 
tion; only  it  must  not  attempt  to  over-step  the  bounds  set 
to  it." 


THE   WINTER   OF   1788.  231 

"  Well,  did  I  do  so  ?  "  he  asked,  fixing  his  fine  eyes  on  her. 

"  My  remark  was  not  a  personal  one,"  she  replied,  evasively 
because  she  deemed  an  allusion  to  his  love  affairs  unbecoming. 
"  I  spoke  as  the  daughter  of  a  statesman.  The  people  is  very 
severe  in  its  criticisms  of  priests  and  soldiers.*  It  demands  that 
both  of  them  should  scrupulously  perform  their  duties.  Sol- 
diers are  expected  to  be  brave,  and  clergymen  are  required  to 
be  pious ;  these  classes  derive  from  these  qualities  the  respect 
that  was  paid  to  them ;  and  they  forfeited  it  by  no  longer  be- 
ing brave  and  pious.  Hence,  both  the  nobility  and  the  church 
have  lost  most  of  their  former  authority." 

"  That  is  the  reason  why  I  have  joined  the  third  estate,"  re- 
plied the  Bishop,  with  a  significant  smile. 

"  But,  it  seems  to  me,  without  renouncing  the  other  two." 

"  La  moitie  vaut  miewx  que  le  taut,  is  my  motto." 

"  And  mine  is  to  devote  myself  entirely  to  every  truth." 

"  What  a  tempting  prospect  for  the  man  on  whom  you  will 
bestow  your  affections." 

"It  is  true,  I  am  warmly  attached  to  my  friends,  and  am 
constant  in  my  devotion  to  them,  inasmuch  as  I  know  why  I 
love  them.  Our  mutual  affections  are  not  blind." 

"  One  might  expect  that  of  your  understanding,  but  should, 
at  the  same  time,  be  afraid  of  your  penetration." 

"  I  am  not  very  rigorous  toward  others.  Only  he  who 
wishes  to  hold  intercourse  with  me,  must  not  be  entirely  desti- 
tute of  mind.  In  that  case,  I  can  get  acquainted  with  him  in 
a  day,  as  well  as  in  ten  years." 

"  Your  words  fill  me  both  with  hopes  and  fears.  At  all 
events,  it  is  best  for  us  to  be  executed  immediately,  when  the 
sword  hangs  once  over  our  heads." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  reply  to  this  remark  ?  " 
*  "  Considerations  sur  la  Kcvolution  Fran?aise." 


232  MADAME   DE  STAEL. 

"  Whether  you  will  receive  me,  or  close  your  door  to  me." 

"  The  latter  would  be  something  new  to  the  admired  Bishop 
of  Autun,"  she  said,  laughing ;  "  and,  even  though  I  should 
not,  injure  myself  by  taking  such  a  step,  I  should  like  to  do  so 
in  the  interest  of  my  whole  sex.  But  where  our  self-love  L« 
concerned,  justice  is  not  always  triumphant" 

"  The  flattering  result  of  your  decision  fills  me  with  just 
pride,"  he  replied,  gratified  at  what  he  had  just  heard.  "  I 
shall  humbly  lay  my  thanks  at  your  feet." 

"  So  you  intend  to  stay  here  in  Paris,  M.  de  Talleyrand  ?  " 

"  At  least  for  the  present." 

"  I  can  imagine  that  you  have  always  longed  to  go  to  the 
capital,"  she  exclaimed.  "  It  is  only  here  that  men  live,  while 
the  rest  of  the  world  seems  to  vegetate.  I  pity  every  talented 
man  who  is  not  permitted  to  participate  in  solving  the  great 
problems  which  the  times  propose  to  us.  By  the  way,  have 
you  read  my  father's  new  work, '  Sur  V Importance  des  Opini- 
ons ReUgicusesf  It  is  a  wonderful  book.  The  seven  years 
of  his  exile  were  not  fruitless  ;  he  has  turned  them  to  account 
like  a  sage,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  welfare  of  humanity 
like  a  youth.  Had  it  been  possible  for  me  to  admire  and  love 
him  still  more,  his  self-abnegation  could  not  but  have  en- 
hanced these  feelings  of  my  heart.  To  belong  to  the  best  and 
noblest  of  men  is  such  an  exalted  happiness,  that  I  should  be 
an  ingrate  if  I  should  quarrel  about  other  things  w.ith  fate, 
which,  in  this  respect,  has  blessed  me  too  richly  riot  to  grudge 
me  other  blessings  from  its  cornucopia." 

"  But  I  am  unable  to  see  that  any  blessings  are  wanting  to 
you,"  said  her  neighbor ;  "  you  seem  to  be  a  favorite  of  fortune 
in  every  respect." 

Madame  de  Stael  sighed. 

"  I  am  a  woman,"  she  said,  sadly.    "  Our  sex  does  not  exist 


THE   WINTER    OF   1788.  233 

for  Its  own  sake ;  it  is  our  task  to  win  the  love  of  men  who 
never  bestow  their  whole  heart  upon  us.  Now,  we  are  happy 
only  if  we  are  loved  as  dearly  as  we  love.  All  other  ends  of 
life  are,  to  us,  mere  palliatives,  by  which  we  assuage  our  grief, 
soothe  our  heart,  and  silence  our  rebellious  desires." 

"  You  can  never  be  justified  in  practicing  this  kind  of  resig- 
nation," replied  the  fine-looking  prelate,  with  a  significant 
glance. 

"  But  I  am  compelled  to  do  so,"  she  cried,  mournfully 
"  Nor  could  it  be  otherwise.  I  did  not  choose  my  creed,  I  did 
not  select  the  relations  by  which  my  life-path  was  to  be  regu- 
lated, and  the  cold  word  duty  written  over  the  gate  leading  to 
my  happiness.  Providence  indemnified  me  by  giving  me  my 
father.  May  it  not  frown  on  me  for  longing  to  have  received 
other  boons,  too,  at  its  hands ! " 

"  It  indemnifies  us  for  everything,"  said  the  young  Bishop, 
significantly. 

"  It  gives  us  no  compensation  for  a  clear  conscience,  such  as 
Calvin's  teachings  require  of  us,"  she  replied,  gravely ;  and  M. 
de  Talleyrand  dropped  his  eyes  before  the  stern  glance  of  hers. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    PEOCESSION. 

ON  the  4th  of  May,  1789,  the  sun  rose  radiantly  over  the  city 
of  Louis  the  Fourteenth.  All  France  was  in  Paris,  and  Paris 
was  in  Versailles.  The  States-General  were  to  be  opened  next 
day,  and  it  had  been  determined  that  a  religious  solemnity  of 
imposing  character  and  common  prayer  should  prepare  the 
minds  of  all  for  this  momentous  event.  The  day  was  very 
fine,  and  the  splendor  that  was  displayed  on  this  occasion  had 
never  been  equaled  before.  But  what  constituted  the  gran- 
deur of  the  spectacle,  were  not  the  crowded  and  sunny  streets, 
not  the  glittering  lines  of  bayonets,  not  the  beautiful  ladies  as- 
sembled at  the  windows,  not  the  rich  draperies  floating  from 
the  balconies,  not  the  grave  voices  of  the  priests,  not  the  peals 
of  the  bells  ascending  to  heaven  amidst  the  flourish  of  the 
trumpet,  the  roll  of  the  drums,  and  the  loud  shouts  of  the  offi- 
cers— no,  the  most  impressive  and  novel  feature  of  the  cere- 
mony was  the  language  that  was  used  throughout  the  city, 
the  drift  of  the  remarks  which  passers-by  exchanged  every- 
where, the  animation  of  all  faces,  the  proud  expression  of  all 
glances,  the  unwonted  self-consciousness  of  everybody's  bear- 
ing, the  feverish  excitement  of  the  minds,  and  the  manly  and 
impressive  agitation  and  solicitude  of  a  nation  visited  by 
liberty.* 

At  the  appointed  hour  the  Three  Estates  left  Notre  Dame  in 
order  to  repair  in  solemn  procession  to  the  Church  of  St. 
*  Louis  Blanc. 


THE   PROCESSION.  235 

Louis,  and  the  multitude  hastened  up  from  all  quarters  to  wit- 
ness the  imposing  spectacle. 

Madame  de  Stael  stood  at  a  window  beside  Madame  da 
Montmorin,  the  wife  of  the  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  and 
gave  the  reins  to  her  joy  at  the  fact  that  the  representatives  of 
the  French  people  had  at  length  been  convoked. 

Madame  de  Montmorin  listened  to  her  a  long  time  in  silence, 
and  finally  replied  to  her  gravely. 

"  It  is  very  wrong  in  you  to  rejoice  to-day ;  this  day  will 
bring  terrible  calamities  upon  France  and  upon  us."  * 

Madame  de  Stael,  deeply  moved  by  these  words,  made  no  re- 
ply for  several  moments.  She  looked  inquiringly  at  the  Min- 
ister's wife ;  but  it  was  not  written  on  her  features  that  she 
would  ascend  the  scaffold  with  one  of  her  sons,  that  the  other 
would  drown  himself,  and  that  her  husband  would  be  slain 
during  the  September  massacre. 

The  procession  meanwhile  moved  past.  It  was  headed  by 
the  Franciscans  and  the  clergy  of  Versailles,  in  whose  midst 
marched  the  band  of  the  royal  chapel.  Then  followed 
the  deputies  of  the  commons.  They  were  dressed  in  plain 
black  cloaks ;  but  the  firmness  of  their  step,  and  their  calm, 
dignified  bearing,  showed  sufficiently  that  they  represented  the 
bones  and  sinews  of  the  nation. 

Next  came  the  deputies  of  the  nobility,  resplendent  with 
their  rich  embroideries,  white  plumes,  and  costly  laces ;  and 
then,  separated  from  the  bishops  in  surplice  and  camail,  the 
plebeians  of  the  Church — the  curates. 

The  King  and  Queen  accompanied  the  Host  which  the 
Archbishop  of  Paris   carried  under  a  magnificent  baldachin, 
the  strings  of  which  were  held  by  the  Counts  of  Provence  and 
Artois,  and  the  Dukes  of  AngoulSme  and  Berry. 
*  "Madame  de  Stael :  Sur  la  Revolution." 


236  MADAME   DE   STAEL.  • 

Marie  Antoinette  looked  very  pale ;  and  when  no  popular 
acclamations  greeted  her,  but  only  shouts  of  "  Orleans  for 
ever ! "  were  heard,  an  expression  of  disdain  quivered  round 
her  beautiful  lips,  and,  in  order  not  to  sink  to  the  ground,  she 
had  to  seize  the  arm  of  the  Princess  de  Lainballes. 

"  Poor  woman  ! "  exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael,  repeatedly, 
on  seeing  this,  and  a  tear  rolled  down  her  cheeks.  "  How  she 
must  suffer  1  How  dreadful  this  walk  must  be  to  her ! " 

"  What  ?  You  pity  her  who  dislikes  you  so  much  ?  "  asked 
her  neighbor,  in  surprise. 

"  The  fact  that  she  is  prejudiced  against  me  cannot  make  me 
insensible  to  the  sufferings  of  a  person  who,  moreover,  belongs 
to  my  own  sex ; "  she  replied,  gently. 

On  the  following  morning,  the  National  Assembty  was 
opened  amidst  imposing  ceremonies.  A  hall  hitherto  used  for 
the  amusements  of  the  court  had  been  arranged  for  this  pur- 
pose, and  a  dense  throng  of  spectators  soon  filled  it  to  suffoca- 
tion. On  an  estrade  in  the  back-ground,  under  a  baldachin, 
was  to  be  seen  the  throne,  decorated  with  golden  fringes ;  be- 
side it  stood  an  easy-chair  for  the  Queen,  and  chairs  for  the 
Princesses  of  the  royal  family.  At  the  foot  of  the  estrade  stood 
a  bench  for  the  Secretaries  of  State,  and,  in  front  of  them,  a 
table  covered  with  violet  velvet. 

Louis  the  Sixteenth  had  himself  directed  the  arrangement 
and  decoration  of  the  hall.  On  the  eve  of  events  of  such  magni- 
tude, the  decoration  of  the  hall  engrossed  his  thoughts ;  and  the 
rest  of  the  time  he  spent  in  learning  his  speech  by  heart,  and 
trying  to  improve  his  delivery  of  the  most  pointed  sentences.* 

A  number  of  amphitheatral  rows  had  been  reserved  for  the 
select  audience  and  the  ladies,  dressed  in  the  most  gorgeous 
and  fashionable  style.  Here  sat  Madame  Necker  beside  her 
*  Madamo  Campan. 


THE   PROCESSION.  237 

daughter.  The  latter  gazed  upon  the  scene  with  eyes  radiant 
with  joy,  and  it  was  not  until  the  King  seated  himself  on  tho 
throne  that  a  vague  apprehension  stole  upon  her. 

She  noticed  how  agitated  and  pale  the  Queen  was  when  she 
entered  the  hall  some  time  after  the  appointed  hour.  She 
watched  her  with  anxious  eyes  during  the  whole  of  the  cere- 
mony. 

Beside  the  Ministers  of  the  Robe  and  the  Ministers  of  the 
Sword  stood  M.  Necker  in  a  plain  civilian's  dress — the  only 
Minister  who  had  disdained  to  appear  in  a  courtier's  cos- 
tume. Enthusiastic  applause  greeted  him.  His  daughter, 
whose  heart  trembled  with  joyous  pride,  would  have  liked  to 
join  in  the  acclamations  which  were  repeated  again  and  again. 

Now  Mirabeau  made  his  appearance,  and  a  murmur  ran 
through  the  Assembly.  He  knew  its  meaning,  and  went  to  his 
place  with  a  proud  step,  and  an  air  plainly  indicating  that  he 
would  make  them  rue  this  reception. 

Louis  the  Sixteenth  wore  the  large  royal  mantle,  and  a 
plumed  hat,  whose  ribbon  sparkled  with  brilliants,  and  whose 
agraffe  was  the  Pitt  diamond.  When  he  entered,  the  whole 
Assembly  rose;  but  Mirabeau  whispered  to  his  neighbor, 
'  There  is  the  victim ! "  * 

The  King  delivered  his  speech,  and  then  the  Chancellor  of 
State  and  M.  Necker  addressed  the  Assembly.  All  three  of 
them  expatiated  on  the  improvement  of  the  financial  condi- 
tion of  the  country,  while  the  Assembly  was  looking  for  the 
draft  of  a  constitution.  Madame  de  Stael  noticed  with  the 
liveliest  regret  that  the  deputies  were  exceedingly  disappointed 
at  her  father's  speech,  the  gist  of  which  was  the  phrase  "  Ne 
toyezpas  enmeuxdu  temps."  She  trembled  on  reading  an  un- 
mistakable expression  of  disappointment  on  all  faces,  and  she 
*  "  Memoirs  of  Weber." 


238  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

could  hardly  refrain  from  jumping  up  and  calling  out  to  them, 
"  Have  patience  !  Do  you  not  hear  the  words,  '  Ne  soyez  pas 
envieux  du  temps  ? '  My  fatlxer  is  the  King's  Minister ;  he 
must  act  in  accordance  with  His  Majesty's  wishes,  and  is  not 
at  liberty  to  propose  what  the  latter  disapproves.  As  an  honest 
man,  he  cannot  do  otherwise;  for  to  prove  recreant  to  the 
confidence  reposed  in  him,  would  be  impossible  to  him." 

She  left  the  hall  in  an  agony  of  impatience,  and  hastened 
back  to  her  house  in  order  to  converse  with  her  friends  about 
the  great  event  of  the  day.  She  found  that  Madame  d'Aiguil- 
lon  had  preceded  her  thither.  The  latter  came  to  meet  her  in 
the  utmost  agitation,  and  complained  of  the  disappointment 
of  her  hopes. 

" Ne  soyezpas  envieux  du  temps"  replied  Madame  de  Stael, 
partly  to  soothe  her,  and  partly  to  defend  her  father  in  hi3 
own  words. 

"How  can  you  expect  us  to  be  patient,"  replied  Madame 
d'Aiguillon,  "  when  the  moment  has  come  at  length  that  calls 
upon  the  nation  to  govern  itself?  What  we  do  not  now  de- 
mand, what  we  do  not  now  wrest  from  the  Government,  we 
shall  never  obtain.  We  must  have  a  constitution ;  we  must  in- 
sist on  this  safeguard  being  granted  to  the  nation.  A  constitu- 
tion alone  can  save  France." 

"  You  are  aware  that  I  fully  concur  in  that  opinion,"  replied 
Madame  de  Stael ;  "  but  I  cannot  allow  you  to  charge  my 
father  with  causing  your  disappointment.  He  acted  in  accor- 
dance with  his  character.  He  had  to  subordinate  his  individual 
wishes  to  his  sense  of  duty.  He  is  unable  to  compel  the  King 
to  be  and  do  what  the  times  demand  of  him.  He  does  not 
stand  firm,  but  is  swayed  by  a  thousand  influences ;  and  what 
is  obtained  from  him  in  one  minute,  may  be  lost  again  in  the 
next  one.  My  father  is  unable  to  manage  him,  and  you  can 


THE   PROCESSION.  239 

hardly  expect  that  he  should  have  such  a  decisive  influence 
over  him.  We  should  concentrate  all  our  efforts  on  prevailing 
upon  the  deputies  to  demand  a  constitution.  You  have  friends 
among  them,  friends  whom  you  are  able  to  influence,  and  so 
have  I.  Madame  de  Coigny,  Madame  de  Castellane,  and  Mad- 
ame de  Luynes  are  likewise  surrounded  by  a  small  circle  of 
men  who  share  our  views ;  and  if  we  join  hands,  we  shall  cer- 
tainly be  able  to  exercise  considerable  influence  upon  the  course 
of  events.  We  should  even  make  the  daily  press  subservient 
to  us  if  it  should  be  able  to  promote  our  ends." 

Madame  d'Aiguillon  concurred  in  these  views,  and  hastened 
home  in  order  to  receive  her  friends.  As  soon  as  she  had  left, 
Madame  de  Stael  went  to  her  boudoir  and  took  up  a  pamphlet 
which  she  had  received  that  very  day.  The  author,  M.  de  la 
Luzerne,  Bishop  of  Langres,  one  of  the  most  gifted  men  of 
France,  proposed  in  it  that  the  three  chambers  should  be  trans- 
formed into  two,  and  that  the  high  clergy  and  the  nobility 
should  form  the  first  chamber,  and  the  low  clergy  and  the  rep- 
resentatives of  the  people  the  second ; — so  deeply  impressed 
was  everybody  with  the  necessity  of  bringing  about  measures 
that  would  exclude  all  needless  debates,  and  immediately  solve 
the  great  problem  with  which  they  had  to  deal. 

She  was  still  reading  the  pamphlet  when  Mathieu  de  Mont- 
morency  was  announced. 

"  Is  it  so  late  already?"  she  said, when  he  entered  the  room; 
"  I  have  not  yet  dressed  for  receiving  the  guests  who  are  to 
dine  with  us." 

"  I  have  preceded  the  others  in  order  to  converse  confiden- 
tially with  you.  What  do  you  think  of  the  King's  speech  ?  " 

"  Ah,  let  us  not  speak  about  it,"  she  exclaimed,  mournfully ; 
"  I  know  it  has  not  satisfied  anybody.  Passion  does  not  count 
the  obstacles,  and  hunger  does  not  wait.  I  may  be  frank 


240  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

toward  you,  Montmorency,  and  confess  to  you  that  I  look  for- 
ward to  the  future  with  great  anxiety.  Two  dreadful  evils 
menace  us :  bankruptcy  and  famine.  How  are  they  to  be  met 
but  by  thorough-going  measures  ;  and  how  are  they  to  be  taken 
as  long  as  three  chambers  can  veto  every  bill  ?  To  improve 
our  financial  condition,  the  clergy  and  nobility  must  be  taxed 
as  heavily  as  the  people,  and  their  inherent  selfishness  will 
never  permit  these  two  classes  to  consent  to  such  necessary 
measures.  Their  vote  will  neutralize  that  of  the  third  estate ; 
we  have  not  made  a  single  step  forward  ;  nay,  what  is  worse, 
we  hopelessly  stand  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice." 

"  How  can  you  believe  that  the  nobility  would  reject  so  just 
and  equitable  a  measure,"  exclaimed  M.  de  Montmorency, 
proudly  throwing  back  his  fine  head.  "  One  should  be  ashamed 
of  being  a  nobleman,  if  that  class  possessed  so  little  nobility  of 
the  heart.  What !  A  nobleman  should  not  be  willing  to  con- 
tribute his  mite  toward  sustaining  the  crown,  when  the  lowest 
classes  of  the  nation  readily  perform  this  duty  toward  their 
country  ?  A  nobleman  should  cling  to  his  sous  like  a  Jew,  and 
refuse  to  make  any  sacrifices  in  such  an  emergency?  That  is 
impossible,  utterly  impossible;  and  if  I  should  be  mistaken, 
I  should  no  longer  be  proud  of  my  name.  I  swear  to  you,  as 
sure  as  my  name  is  Montmorency,  should  my  class  ever  sin  so 
heinously  against  my  class,  I  niyself,  the  heir  of  this  ancient 
name,  shall  move  to  divest  a  nobility  that  displajrs  so  little 
nobility  of  all  its  prerogatives,  and  I  shall  then  be  first  to  join 
the  third  estate." 

He  had  drawn  himself  up  to  his  full  height  as  he  uttered 
these  words  ;  his  eyes  shot  fire ;  his  cheeks  glowed ;  and  he  re- 
sembled an  enthusiastic  Antinous.  Madame  de  Stael  gazed  at 
him  with  admiration  and  profound  emotion,  and  her  dark  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  as,  holding  out  her  hand  to  him,  she  said : 


THE   PROCESSION.  241 

"  TCI  be  animated  with  such  generous  feelings,  my  friend,  is 
a  great  blessing,  and  I  should  like  to  offer  a  libation  to  the 
gods  for  this  sublime  minute.  Nothing  is  so  grand  as  a  glance 
into  a  human  soul  truly  ennobled  by  nature," 

"  You  attach  too  much  importance  to  sentiments,  which,  at 
bottom,  are  quite  natural,"  replied  the  young  man,  modestly ; 
""and  I  hope  you  will  discover  yet  a  great  many  noblemen  who 
share  my  opinions." 

"  I  am  afraid  there  are  very  few  of  them,"  said  Madame  cle 
Stael.  "  I  am  quite  familiar  with  the  spirit  of  the  nobility  at 
court ;  it  will  submit,  if  it  cannot  help  it ;  for  it  is  accustomed 
to  obey  the  sovereign ;  why,  then,  should  it  not  also  yield  to 
necessity  ?  But  it  will  not  do  anything  from  conviction.  Now, 
the  provincial  nobility  is  still  worse ;  it  clings  to  its  privileges 
as  if  it  had  received  them  at  the  creation  of  the  world,  and 
speaks  of  its  titles  as  if  the  whole  world  paid  homage  to  them  ; 
when,  in  reality,  no  one  but  their  neighbors  has  ever  heard 
their  illustrious  names.  All  the  arguments  of  these  provincial 
noblemen  may  be  reduced  to  the  three  words,  '  C'etatt  ainsi 
jadis.'  If  you  reply  to  them  that  the  times  are  changed,  that 
the  world  does  not  stand  still,  that  nations  cannot  go  back- 
ward, but  must  go  forward,  they  smile  incredulously,  and  their 
expression  indicates  that  nothing  would  convince  them.  There 
is  nothing  they  despise  so  much  as  knowledge  and  intelli- 
gence." 

"  Your  criticisms  are  very  severe,"  mournfully  replied  the 
young  man,  laying  his  hand  on  his  forehead  ;  "  but  I  cannot 
but  admit  that  they  are  true  in  many  respects.  But  how  are 
we  to  bring  about  a  change  for  the  better  ?  What  are  we  to 
do  in  order  to  save  what  can  be  saved  ?  " 

"  The  National  Assembly  must  demand  a  constitution,"  ex- 
claimed Madame  de  Stael,  emphatically.  "  We  must  have  a 
11 


*.M2  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

government  similar  to  that  of  Great  Britain.  When  the 
younger  son  of  a  lord  becomes  a  commoner,  the  aristocracy 
can  nojonger  treat  the  third  estate  with  haughty  disdain,  and 
encroach  upon  its  rights,  which,  in  a  measure,  are  its  own. 
The  clergy,  however,  must  not  represent  itself;  in  that  case, 
we  should  have  to  strengthen  the  influence  of  the  third  estate 
again,  and  that  would  also  he  dangerous.  As  I  said  before,  the 
English  constitution  seems  to  me  well-nigh  perfect ;  and  the 
closer  we  imitate  it,  the  greater  will  be  the  happiness  of 
France." 

At  this  moment  the  Bishop  of  Autun  was  announced. 

"  I  came  a  little  earlier  to  congratulate  you  on  M.  Necker's 
masterly  speech,"  he  said,  on  entering  the  room,  and  bowing 
to  her  in  his  black  robe,  which  sat  so  well  on  him.  "  lie  did 
not  promise  anything,  and  thus  kept  the  whole  game  in  his 
hands.  I  admired  his  tactics  sincerely." 

"  They  were  those  of  an  honest  man ;  of  a  responsible  Min- 
ister," exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael,  warmly.  "  But,  above  all 
things,  tell  me  now  if  we  may  count  upon  you.  Will  you 
bring  your  influence  to  bear  on  your  class,  in  order  to  cause  it 
to  pursue  a  course  of  moderation  and  conciliation  ?  Will  you 
act  honestly  for  us  and  with  us  ?  " 

He  smiled  significantly. 

"  What  would  one  not  do  in  the  name  of  the  most  gifted 
woman  on  earth,"  he  said,  gently.  "  But  you  refer  to  my 
class.  Unfortunately,"  he  added  with  a  sigh,  "  I  combine 
three  classes  in  my  person,  so  that  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  to 
which  you  alluded." 

"  You  are  at  a  loss  to  know  it,  M.  de  Talleyrand  ?  You  do 
not  know  it,  because  you  do  not  want  to  know  it.  You  are  a 
deputy  of  the  third  estate,  and  at  the  same  time  you  wear  the 
dress  of  a  high  prelate.  You  are  a  nobleman,  and,  as  such, 


THE   PROCESSION.  243 

occupy  a  place  close  to  the  throne.  You  are  courted  and  con- 
sulted by  all  parties ;  every  one  believes  to  have  won  you  as 
long  as  you  listen  to  him ;  but  as  soon  as  you  leave  him,  the 
conviction  dawns  on  him  that  your  smile  was  no  pledge.  Put 
an  end  to  this  game." 

The  handsome  Bishop  smiled  all  the  time. 

"  And  what  do  you  want  me  to  do,  my  adorable  friend? "  he 
asked,  in  a  gentle  voice. 

"  I  only  want  you  to  break  with  the  Court,  turn  your  back 
on  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  vote  in  the  Chamber  for  a  union, 
of  the  estates  and  a  constitution." 

"  Now,  I  must  remind  you  of  the  momentous  words  of  your 
illustrious  father, '  Ne  soyez  pas  envieux  du  temps.1  In  breaking 
with  the  Court  and  the  Duke  of  Orleans  I  should  not  gain 
anything  but  the  impossibility  to  inform  myself  any  further  of 
their  plans  and  intentions.  Had  the  Count  d'Artois  followed 
my  advice  at  an  earlier  day,  when  I  was  ready  to  join  the 
Court  party  on  condition  that  the  Duke  of  Orleans  and  Mira- 
beau  should  be  sacrificed,  the  fall  of  these  two  heads  would 
have  rid  us  of  two  powerful  leaders  of  the  enemy,  and 
smoothed  our  path.  But  as  it  is,  and  at  a  time  when  no  one, 
not  even  M.  Necker,  acts  in  keeping  with  Beaumarchais' 
words,  'Oser  tout  dire,  oser  tout  faire,'  I  do  not  deem  it  in- 
cumbent on  me  to  obstruct  my  path  needlessly.  Where 
there  is  power,  there  is  in  the  long  run  right,  too ;  let  us 
wait  and  see.  '  Ne  soyez  pas  envieua  du  temps'  says  Necker. 
Will  his  daughter  be  angry  with  me  for  walking  in  his  foot- 
steps?" 

"  Ah,  M.  de  Talleyrand,  if  you  would,  if  you  could  do  so ! " 
she  exclaimed,  mournfully.  "  But  I  arn  afraid  you  are  by  far 
too  gifted,  too  objective  to  pursue  the  path  of  justice  inflexibly 
and  inexorably.  You  continue  visiting  the  Palais  Royal.  You 


244  MADAME    DE   STAEL. 

hold  intercourse  with  Mirabeau.  You  feel  at  ease  among  men 
•who  profess  the  most  objectionable  principles." 

"  I  am  a  little  of  an  epicure,  I  admit,"  he  replied,  jocularly. 
"  To  enjoy  myself  the  better  here,  I  frequent  those  circles. 
The  lower  I  descend  there,  the  higher  I  ascend  here." 

"  You  cannot  ascend  very  high,  for  never  yet  have  I  been 
able  to  fill  you  with  ardor  enough  to  declare  that  you  would 
like  to  sacrifice  yourself  for  an  idea — to  die' for  an  idea."  N 

"  It  is  true,  I  should  prefer  living  for  an  idea,  if  it  is  a  beau- 
tiful one ;  nor  am  I  entirely  destitute  of  passion,  as  you  seem 
to  believe.  So  pray  do  not  give  me  up  yet ! " 

"  You  cannot  do  anything  with  him,"  she  said,  turning  to 
M.  cle  Monlmorency,  and  shaking  her  head.  "  He  always 
escapes  by  a  back  door.  And  yet,  we  cannot  now  accomplish 
anything  by  half-words  and  half-measures,  by  which  inconsis- 
tent humanity  always  likes  to  defend  its  cause.  We  cannot 
reiterate  too  often,  that  individuals,  as  well  as  law-givers,  have 
but  moments  of  luck  and  power ;  they  must  resolutely  seize 
them,  for  the  same  opportunity  never  returns,  and  he  who 
allows  it  to  pass  by  without  turning  it  to  account,  will  thence- 
forth meet  with  nothing  but  failure  and  losses." 

At  this  moment,  Barnave,  a  young  lawyer  from  Dauplrine, 
highly  gifted  and  destined  to  become  an  eminent  parliamen- 
tary speaker,  entered  the  room.  Madame  de  Stael  built  great 
hopes  on  him,  and  welcomed  him  now  in  the  most  flattering 
manner.  She  then  withdrew,  in  order  to  change  her  dress, 
and  the  footman  announced  soon  after  that  dinner  was  ready. 

M.  de  Stael  received  his  guest  with  the  air  of  a  diplomatist, 
and  performed  the  duties  of  hospitality  with  the  frigid  polite- 
ness peculiar  to  courtiers.  The  exalted  position  and  great 
popularity  of  his  father-in-law  silenced  his  aristocratic  pride  ; 
and  the  circle  of  guests  whom  his  wife  of  twenty-three  assem- 


TUB   PROCESSION.  245 

bled  around  her,  was  such  as  not  to  justify  the  slightest  objec- 
tion on  his  part.  Her  extreme  kind-heartedness  had,  moreover 
induced  her  to  fulfill  some  of  his  most  unreasonable  wishes  :  so 
that,  mindful  as  he  was  of  her  generosity,  he  did  not  want  to 
prevent  her  from  yielding  to  the  great  current  of  the  times  and 
wishing  with  all  her  heart  to  see  her  country  happy  and  free 
As  for  himself,  such  a  cause  did  not  arouse  his  enthusiasm;  his 
life  lay  behind  him.  The  brief  span  of  life  which  was  still  left 
to  him,  he  wished  to  pass  in  enjoying  himself  as  much  as  pos- 
sible— a  task  which  grows  the  more  difficult,  the  more  the 
senses  are  blunted.  Opposite  to  this  man  now  sat  his  gifted 
young  wife,  and  indulged,  with  her  sympathizing  friends,  in 
golden  dreams  for  the  welfare  of  France. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    FAMINE. 

INTENSE  excitement  reigned  in  Paris  and  throughout 
France.  The  assembly  of  the  States-General  riveted  the  atten- 
tion of  the  whole  nation.  All  eyes  were  fixed  on  their  pro- 
ceedings, politics  engrossed  all  thoughts,  and  even  the  most 
fashionable  ladies  had  become  ardent  advocates  of  constitu- 
tional reforms. 

The  moment  had  come  when  talented  men  were  able  to  dis- 
tinguish themselves.  Many  a  young  lawyer  who,  under  dif- 
ferent circumstances,  would  have  continued  leading  an  ob- 
scure life  in  his  provincial  town,  had  now  been  called  to  Paris, 
where  he  displayed  his  brilliant  abilities.  At  the  same  time, 
there  were  found  hi  the  ranks  of  the  aristocracy  many  gifted 
young  men  who  were  deficient  neither  in  knowledge  nor  zeal 
to  serve  their  country,  and  who  joyously  joined  those  who 
advocated  the  rights  of  the  people. 

Madame  de  Stael  was  now  surrounded  by  a  brilliant  circle. 
As  the  daughter  of  an  almost  all-powerful  Minister  and  wife 
of  an  Embassador,  her  house  was  frequented  by  the  most  emi- 
nent men.  Despite  her  diplomatic  relations  with  the  court, 
she  was  allowed  to  receive  many  representatives  of  the  third 
estate,  and  consult  with  them  as  to  the  best  means  by  which  the 
royal  prerogatives  might  be  curtailed,  and  equality  before  the 
law  established.  She  demanded  a  new  constitution  with  the 
head  of  a  man  and  the  heart  of  a  woman.  She  did  not  want 


THE    FAMINE.  247 

to  see  the  humblest  persons  excluded  from  their  share  in  the 
fruits  borne  by  civilization. 

Necker's  political  demands  did  not  go  so  far;  still  he  did 
not  disturb  his  daughter  in  the  aspirations  and  plans  which 
she  advocated  with  heartfelt  enthusiasm.  She  was  at  liberty 
to  declare  in  favor  of  measures  which  his  position  as  a  Min- 
ister prevented  him  from  supporting. 

Dinner-parties,  suppers,  social  parties,  nay,  the  theaters, 
seemed  to  exist  only  for  the  purpose  of  giving  the  upper  classes 
fresh  opportunities  for  engaging  in  heated  political  discussions. 
On  all  sides  were  to  be  heard  words  referring  to  the  strife  of  the 
various  parties.  Literature  had  lost  its  charms ;  the  members 
of  the  Academy  no  longer  cared  to  deliver  addresses  on  such 
subjects. 

Hopes  of  better  times  rilled  all  hearts  with  joy  and  gaiety, 
and  caused  them  to  forget  the  perils  and  calamities  of  the  mo- 
ment Madame  de  Stael  went  almost  every  day  to  the  sittings 
of  the  Assembly.  A  great  many  other  ladies  from  the  highest 
circles  of  society  were  also  frequently  present ;  but  none  of 
them  obtained  as  much  influence  as  Necker's  daughter. 

Meanwhile  a  terrible  foe  put  his  pale  face  into  the  hall  of  the 
Assembly,  and  threatened  to  hinder  their  deliberations  as  to  the 
future  by  the  grave  exigencies  of  the  present  •.  it  was — hunger ! 

"When  the  brilliant  equipage  of  the  Swedish  Etnbassadress 
rolled  through  the  streets  of  Paris,  she  could  not  but  notice  the 
thousands  of  wretches,  who,  covered  with  rags,  stared  at  her 
with  hollow  cheeks  and  sunken  eyes,  and  lifted  their  hands  to 
her  imploringly.  What  could  she  offer  them  to  relieve  such 
terrible  distress  ? 

She  averted  her  face  in  dismay.  Had  matters  come  to  such 
a  pass  before  the  Government  had  consented  to  grant  the  safe- 
guard of  salutary  laws  to  the  poor  country  ? 


248  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

Of  these  new  laws  she  now  hoped  everything.  Meanwhile 
the  condition  of  the  poor  became  more  and  more  deplorable. 
The  bad  and  scanty  fo'od  engendered  malignant  fevers  and 
other  wide-spread  diseases ;  on  the  market  places  and  public 
squares  encamped  the  shelterless  multitude,  like  vast  bands  of 
gypsies.  During  the  dark  nights  death  crept  softly  through 
their  ranks,  and  released  those'  who  were  weary  of  their  suf- 
ferings. 

Whenever  a  wagon  filled  with  provisions  made  its  appear- 
ance, a  riot  took  place ;  the  multitude  quarreled  fiercely  as  to 
who  was  to  obtain  the  food,  and  the  military  had  to  be  called 
out  to  prevent  violence  and  bloodshed. 

"When  the  sufferings  of  a  people  have  reached  this  degree, 
an  untoward  accident  or  the  machinations  of  an  ambitious 
man  may  lead  to  the  sudden  overthrow  of  a  throne. 

Notwithstanding  her  political  hopes,  Madame  de  Stael  was 
deeply  impressed  by  the  deplorable  condition  of  the  lower 
classes,  and  she  would  have  willingly  divided  the  courses  of 
her  sumptuous  table  with  all  the  poor  sufferers.  Above  all, 
those  men  who  wished  to  honestly  earn  their  livelihood  in  the 
sweat  of  their  faces,  seemed  to  her  deserving  of  sincere  com- 
passion ;  for  the  morsel  which  charity  gives  to  such  men  tastes 
bitter,  very  bitter. 

She  came  to  her  father  with  streaming  eyes,  depicted  to  him 
what  she  had  seen,  and  asked  him  what  was  to  be  done. 

Necker  had  left  no  stone  unturned  to  check  the  growing 
famine,  but  all  his  efforts  were  wasted.  Deeply  depressed, 
knitting  his  brows,  and  folding  his  hands  on  his  back,  he  stood 
before  his  daughter,  and  was  unable  to  give  her  the  answer 
•which  she  called  for, 

"  My  God  !  My  God ! "  she  sighed.  "  How  fearfully  this  tor- 
rible  sin  against  the  people  will  have  to  be  atoned  for.*' 


THE   FAMINE.  29 

Necker  replied  bitterly : 

"  Ah,  if  this  were  the  only  sin !  but  if  you  could  see  the 
prisons ;  if  you  could  cast  a  glance  into  those  dungeons  where 
so  many  are  languishing  without  knowing  what  crimes  they 
may  have  committed;  it'  you  could  just  once  walk  through 
the  cells  of  Bicetre,  you  would  find  out  what  a  mockery  hu- 
man justice  is.  I  am  unable  to  help.  When  a  house  is  every- 
where on  fire,  a  fire-engine  can  do  but  little  good." 

"  She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  remained  a  long  time 
standing  before  him  in  silence. 

"  Spring  is  at  hand,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  months  there 
will  be  another  crop ;  must,  then,  so  many  thousands  starve  to 
death  before  that  time  ?  "  she  asked,  despondingly. 

"  God  knows,  my  child,"  said  Necker,  drawing  her  to  him 
and  imprinting  a  kiss  on  her  forehead.  "  I  cannot  but  believe 
that  such  is  the  will  of  Providence,  inasmuch  as  I  see  the  evil 
here  without  being  able  to  fathom  its  source." 

On  her  way  home  her  carriage  was  stopped  repeatedly. 
The  populace  had  gathered  in  front  of  the  bakers'  shops,  and  de- 
manded imperiously  to  be  admitted  to  them.  Some  bakers  had 
sold  them  bread  mixed  with  earth,  which  had  caused  dreadful 
sufferings  to  those  who  had  eaten  of  it.  The  court  still  used 
the  finest  white  flour ;  nobody  suffered  there  from  the  famine 
which  had  stamped  its  fatal  imprint  on  the  livid  faces  of  the 
poor  wretches  who  were  assembled  here. 

Madame  de  Stael  was  perfectly  beside  herself  when  she 
reached  her  house. 

"  Great  God,  how  is  all  this  going  to  end ! "  she  lamented ; 
and  she  then  implored  her  friends  to  devise  means  by  which 
an  end  might  be  put  to  the  heart-rending  sufferings  of  the  peo- 
ple ;  but  they  responded  to  her  only  by  shrugging  their  shoul- 
ders and  shaking  their  heads. 


250  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

Finally,  she  took  all  her  money,  and  walked  out  on  foot 
She  intended  to  bring  relief  to  sick  and  suffering  women,  and 
forgot  that  money  had  lost  its  value,  since  bread  could  no  lon- 
ger be  bought  with  it. 

She  wandered  from  street  to  street,  as  if  she  could  not 
satiate  herself  with  the  sight  of  all  this  misery ;  her  eyes  fol- 
lowed this  ever-varying  scene,  which  hunger  and  extreme 
wretchedness  had  created. 

She  had  unwittingly  wended  her  way  to  the  garden  of  the 
Palais  Royal,  when  she  suddenly  heard  the  shout,  "  To  the 
Abbaye  !  To  the  Abbaye  ! "  The  voice  belonged  to  a  young 
man,  who,  standing  on  a  chair,  was  haranguing  the  multitude. 
Loud  cheers  burst  forth  as  he  now  signed  to  the  crowd  to  fol- 
low him.  A  vast  concourse  of  people  started  with  him,  and 
Madame  de  Stael  was  carried  away  by  the  throng. 

She  glanced  anxiously  around  in  order  to  find  an  outlet.  She 
had  never  before  been  in  such  a  crowd,  and  ignorant  as  she  was 
of  its  irresistible  force,  she  vainly  tried  to  escape  from  it 

Fortunately  for  her,  the  Bishop  of  Autun  stepped  at  this 
moment  from  the  Cafe  Foy,  and  perceived  to  his  utmost  sur- 
prise the  wife  of  the  Swedish  Embassador  in  the  midst  of  the 
tumultuous  crowd.  He  suspected  at  once  that  she  did  not 
follow  it  of  her  own  accord  ;  so  he  hastened  to  offer  his  arm 
to  her,  and  take  with  her  a  position  where  the  crowd  might 
sweep  past  them.  He  succeeded  in  so  doing. 

As  soon  as  they  were  alone,  he  said,  "  You  have  been  before- 
hand with  me,  Madame.  You  have  practically  joined  the 
third  estate,  while  I  was  still  reflecting  whether  or  not  it 
would  be  theoretically  worth  while  for  me  to  do  so." 

"  You  are  always  jesting,  M.  de  Talleyrand,  even  when  grim 
earnest  is  staring  at  you  from  faces  distorted  with  hunger 
But  pray  tell  me,  whither  is  this  crowd  hurrying?  " 


THE   FAMINE.  251 

"Did  the  people  not  shout,  'To  the  Abbaye?'  They  want 
to  deliver  the  eleven  guardsmen  who  are  imprisoned  there; 
and  who,  it  is  rumored,  are  to  be  taken  to  Bice"tre  to-night. 
The  soldiers  begin  to  mutiny;  they  refuse  to  submit  any 
longer  to  the  regulation  disqualifying  them  to  hold  commis- 
sions in  the  army  because  of  their  plebeian  birth.  Old  Segur 
should  not  have  revived  this  old  law." 

"  It  was  an  unaccountable  blindness  on  his  part  to  do  so," 
exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael.  "  "When  are  these  men  going  to 
perceive  that  talent,  and  not  birth,  should  alone  be  regarded 
in  filling  those  positions  ?  But  let  us  say  no  more  about  it 
to-day.  Help  me  to  devise  means  to  deliver  Paris  from  the 
horrors  of  this  famine.  I  cannot  tell  you  what  I  am  suffering 
at  the  present  time.  If  my  tears  would  give  bread  to  the 
poor,  they  would  flow  perennially  over  their  dreadful  fate." 

"  I  can  unfortunately  serve  you  only  with  the  proposition  of 
confiscating  the  estates  of  -the  high  clergy,  and  I  am  ready  to 
be  the  first  to  surrender  mine,"  he  said,  with  the  same  graceful 
calmness,  as  if  he  were  conversing  on  the  most  indifferent 
subject. 

"  My  God,  you  would  really  do  so  ?  "  exclaimed  Madame 
de  Stael.  "  Do  you  know,  Talleyrand,  that  you  have  just  ut- 
tered a  great  and  noble  word." 

"  You  are  able  to  obtain  anything  from  me,"  he  replied,  with 
a  sidelong  glance  from  his  fine  blue  eyes  at  the  young  Embassa- 
dress,  who  was  gazing  at  him  with  an  air  of  heartfelt  enthu- 
siasm. 

"  Ah,  Talleyrand,  I  have  often  doubted  your  sincerity ;  but, 
if  vou  will  take  this  step,  I  shall  beg  you  with  all  my  heart  to 
forgive  me  for  distrusting  the  sincerity  of  your  sympathies  for 
France." 

He  smiled  strangely.    "  I  shall  afford  you  a  great  deal  more 


252  MADAME   DE   STAEL, 

joy  than  I  have  hitherto  led  you  to  believe,"  he  said,  signifl 
cantly.  "  I  shall  prove  to  you  that  you  have  mistaken  my 
character." 

"  I  will  do  you  full  justice,"  she  exclaimed,  in  deep  emotion  ; 
"  only  help  me  to  save  these  poor,  poor  people  from  death  by 
starvation.  Just  look  at  the  group  yonder!  How  they  are 
staring  at  me,  those  women  with  their  pale  faces !  Is  there, 
then,  no  baker's  shop  where  we  might  buy  bread  ?  Ah,  I  wish 
only  to  obtain  the  satisfaction  to  know  that  I  saved  those  whom 
I  was  able  to  save ! " 

"  What  you  give  to  some,  you  have  to  take  from  others,"  re- 
plied Talleyrand,  in  the  same  tone  as  before,  averting  his  face 
with  a  slight  shudder  from  the  dismal  group.  "  I  am  afraid 
still  worse  scenes  are  in  store  for  us.  Free  institutions  cannot 
be  obtained  without  bloodshed." 

"  God  grant  that  we  may  not  have  civil  war ! "  cried  Madame 
de  Stael,  in  dismay.  "  Concessions'  obtained  by  force  may  be 
easily  taken  from  us  by  the  same  means." 

At  this  moment  a  carriage  rolled  past. 

"  That  was  Mirabeau,"  said  Talleyrand.  "  He  is  sick.  It 
would  be  very  fortunate  for  France  if  he  were  to  die.  It  was 
a  deplorable  oversight  on  the  part  of  M.  Necker  not  to  try  to 
win  Mirabeau  over  to  his  party." 

"My  father  is  no  diplomatist.  He  always  pursues  the 
straight  road." 

"  And  suddenly  stands  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice." 

When  they  reached  her  palace,  they  found  Necker's  equipage 
at  the  door,  and,  in  the  salon,  Madame  Necker,  awaiting  her 
daughter's  return. 

"  I  have  just  been  at  the  hospital,"  she  said.  "  There  are  so 
many  patients  there,  that  all  the  beds  are  occupied,  and  typhus 
is  spreading  very  rapidly.  I  wished  to  request  you  to  drive  to 


THE   FAMINE.  253 

Bailly,  and  ask  him  to  give  us  some  public  building  where 
more  patients  might  be  placed." 

While  they  were  still  conversing  on  this  subject,  Condorce.t 
entered  the  room. 

"  I  bring  you  here  the  latest  literary  production,"  he  said, 
with  his  habitual  sarcastic  smile,  presenting  a  paper  to  Mad- 
ame de  Stael.  She  unfolded  it.  It  represented  John  Bull 
mounted  on  the  British  Constitution,  and  driven  by  an  old  gen- 
tleman, exclaiming :  '  Laissez-les  faire,  &  force  de  lafaire  golop- 
per  Ms  la  creveront?  "  * 

"  Always  jest  and  earnest  side  by  side ! "  exclaimed  Madame 
de  Stael,  shaking  her  head.  "  At  a  moment  when  rebellion 
and  famine  knock  at  all  doors  and  call  upon  all  hearts  for  sym- 
pathy and  mercy,  there  are  men  still  capable  of  deriding  the 
poor  constitution  which  has  made  England  great  and  happy." 

"  We  must  try  to  forget  what  we  cannot  help,"  interposed 
M.  de  Talleyrand.  "  So  I  propose  that  we  say  no  more  about 
bread  and  constitution  to-day,  but  go  to  the  opera.  Gluck's 
'  Iphigenia '  will  be  performed  to-night." 

The  proposition  was  approved.  Madame  Necker,  too,  longed 
to  repose,  after  witnessing  so  many  heart-rending  scenes.  Not- 
withstanding the  general  distress  and  anxiety,  the  theaters 
still  were  crowded.  Frequently,  however,  there  arose  quarrels 
among  the  spectators,  which  often  came  to  blows.  The  exas- 
peration of  the  lower  classes  was  constantly  on  the  increase ; 
and  inasmuch  as  they  thought  the  boxes  were  occupied  by 
the  aristocracy,  they  disturbed  the  performance  by  throwing 
apples  at  some  ladies  with  painted  cheeks. 

It  is  true,  Necker's  family  were  safe  from  such  insults ;  but 
the  sight  of  this  brutality  greatly  depressed  the  mother  and 
daughter,  and  they  went  home  in  gloomy  spirits. 
*  "Memoires  de  Condorcet." 


254  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

M.  de  Stael  had  been  at  court  Contrary  to  his  habit,  he 
inquired  if  his  wife  was  at  home,  and,  upon  receiving  a  reply 
in  the  affirmative,  he  entered  her  salon.  She  supposed  that 
some  unusual  event  had  led  him  to  her,  and  looked  at  him  in 
eager  expectation  as  he  entered  the  room.  He  seated  himself 
and  talked  about  indifferent  matters.  This  added  greatly  to 
her  curiosity.  She  listened  to  him  absently,  and  finally  inter- 
rupted him  by  saying: 

"  Did  the  King  say  anything  about  my  father  to-day,  or  did 
he  not  mention  his  name  ?  " 

"  That  would  have  been  impossible,"  replied  M.  de  Stael.  "  A 
man  whose  name  is  in  the  mouth  of  all  France  cannot  be  passed 
over  in  any  conversation." 

"  So  he  praised  him  ?  " 

"  By  no  means.  The  courtiers  put  on  mysterious  airs,  and 
whenever  Necker's  name  was  mentioned,  they  cast  singular 
glances  at  one  another.  Struck  with  their  strange  demeanor, 
I  took  M.  d'Espremenil  aside,  and  asked  him  what  it  all 
meant.  '  That  he  will  be  hung  in  less  than  three  weeks' 
time,'  he  replied,  with  a  confident  smile." 

"  How  can  they  do  so  ?  "  cried  Madame  de  Stael,  turning 
pale.  "  All  Paris  would  rise  in  rebellion  if  they  should  dare 
to  touch  a  hair  of  my  father's  head." 

"  They  will  take  good  care  not  to  do  so  publicly,"  replied  M. 
de  Stael,  gravely.  "  They  will  arrest  and  cause  him  to  dis- 
appear. The  grave  does  not  give  up  its  dead." 

Madame  de  Stael  uttered  a  piercing  cry  on  hearing  these 
words.  Breathless  with  terror,  she  rang  the  bell  and  ordered 
her  carriage. 

It  was  late  already  when  she  reached  Necker's  house ;  but 
her  father's  solicitude  for  France  kept  him  awake;  and  he 
Btood  musingly  at  the  window  and  gazed  into  the  dark  night 


THE  FAMINE.  255 

which  shrouded  so  many  scenes  of  heart-rending  misery. 
Suddenly  an  arm  was  wound  round  his  neck,  and  the  radiant 
eyes  of  his  daughter  gazed  up  to  him  with  tender  anxiety. 

"  You  here  ?  "  he  asked,  in  surprise.  "  What  brought  you 
hither  at  this  late  hour  ?  "What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Let  us  flee ! "  she  cried,  breathlessly.  "  They  are  intent  on 
killing  you.  Save  yourself  while  it  is  time." 

Necker  turned  pale,  but  he  composed  himself  in  a  moment 
and  replied : 

"  God  is  with  me,  and  so  is  my  conscience.  So  never  fear, 
Germaine.  When  your  father  is  protected  by  them,  no  one 
will  harm  him." 

She  gazed  up  to  him  with  reverential  admiration.  "  But 
what  if  they  use  force  ?  " 

"  In  that  event  I  shall  die  as  I  must  die,  my  child.  Would 
you  not  rather  have  your  father  fall  at  his  post,  than  desert  it 
in  a  cowardly  manner  ?  " 

She  made  no  reply.  Leaning  her  head  on  his  breast,  she 
wept  a  long  time  in  silence  ;  she  then  raised  herself  up,  kissed 
him,  and,  without  uttering  a  word,  left  the  room. 

Necker  gazed  after  her  a  long  time  in  deep  emotion.  "  My 
child  loves  and  understands  me  better  than  all  the  world,"  he 
said  to  himself,  and  he  raised  his  eyes  thankfully  to  heaven. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
NECKER'S  TRIUMPHANT  ENTRY  INTO  PARIS. 

THE  oppressive  sultriness  preceding  a  violent  thunderstorm 
rested  heavily  on  the  capital  of  France,  and  added  to  the  dis- 
couragement reigning  everywhere.  Suddenly,  in  the  evening 
of  the  12th  of  July,  the  Courier  de  Versailles  brought,  in  its 
eighth  edition  the  news  that  the  King  had  dismissed  Nccker. 

It  needed  only  such  a  spark  to  kindle  the  existing  combus- 
tibles into  a  terrific  blaze. 

As  soon  as  the  newspaper  in  question  appeared  on  the  tables 
of  the  coffee-houses,  and  was  taken  up  by  the  first  readers,  they 
rushed  out  into  the  street,'  and  rent  the  air  with  lamentations, 
shouting  that  the  country  was  in  danger,  and  Paris  was  lost, 
inasmuch  as  Necker  had  left  the  capital.* 

The  performances  at  the  theaters  were  interrupted ;  frantic 
despair  seized  the  people,  who  rushed  everywhere  into  the 
streets,  and  surged  in  dense  masses  toward  the  Palais  Royal. 
Here  the  leaves  were  torn  from  the  trees,  and  fastened  as  cock- 
ades to  the  hats  ;  the  crowd  then  brought  the  busts  of  Necker 
and  the  Duke  of  Orleans  from  a  store,  and  carried  both  of 
them  in  triumph  through  the  streets. 

Night  set  in  during  these  tumultuous  scenes,  but  it  was  a 
tepid  summer  night,  lit  up  every  now  and  then  by  flashes  of 
lightning,  and  which  rendered  it  unnecessary  for  the  Parisians 
to  seek  the  shelter  of  their  homes. 


*  Marmoutel. 


NECKEE'S  TRIUMPHANT  ENTRY  INTO  PARIS.      257 

Thus  the  climate  and  season  play  an  important  part  in  the 
great  epochs  in  the  history  of  the  world  ; — a  shower,  a  snow- 
storm, and  a  widely  different  morning  would  have  dawned  on 
Paris. 

Madame  de  Stael  had  entertained  a  few  guests  at.  her  house, 
and,  absorbed  in  an  animated  conversation,  she  had  not  noticed 
the  commotion  reigning  in  the  streets,  nor  the  anxious  and  in- 
quiring expressions  with  which  her  servants  watched  her. 
Now  she  was  alone,  and  stepped  to  the  window  in  order  to 
breathe  a  little  fresh  air  before  retiring  for  the  night.  At  this 
moment  there  fell  on  her  ears  the  startling  notes  of  the  tumult 
raging  through  the  streets.  Turning  very  pale,  she  started 
back,  and  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  when  M.  de  Montmor- 
ency  rushed  in  breathlessly. 

"  Great  God,  what  has  happened  ? "  anxiously  cried  Mad- 
ame de  Stael,  lifting  her  hands  as  if  imploringly. 

"  You  do  not  know  it  yet?"  asked  M.  de  Montmorency,  in 
surprise.  "  You  do  not  know  why  Paris  is  ringing  the  tocsin, 
and  threatens  us  all  with  destruction  and  death  ?  " 

"  I  do  not,"  she  cried,  beside  herself. 

"  Because  Necker  has  left  Paris." 

"  Left  Paris ! "  exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael,  trembling  so 
violently  that  she  had  to  lean  against  the  wall  in  order  not  to 
fall  to  the  ground.  "  He  has  left  Paris  without  saying  a  word 
to  me  ?  That  is  impossible,  utterly  impossible ! " 

"  And  yet  it  is  true.  He  departed  in  obedience  to  the 
King's  order,  without  a  word  to  anybody.  He  was  at  the 
dinner-table  when  the  King's  letter  was  handed  to  him.  He 
read  it  without  losing  his  self-possession,  laid  it  aside,  and 
finished  his  dinner.  He  then  ordered  his  carriage,  as  he  said, 
to  take  an  airing,  and  entered  it  with  your  mother  in  the 
white  dress  which  she  wore  at  the  time.  "We  saw  him  drive 


258  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

away,  and  did  not  learn  until  an  hour  afterward  that  he  would 
not  return." 

"  Oh !  I  warned  him ! "  cried  Madame  de  Stael,  mournfully. 
"  Thank  God,  my  worst  apprehensions  have  not  been  real- 
ized. I  was  fearful  they  might  arrest  him,  in  order  to  protect 
themselves  against  an  insurrection." 

"  They  did  not  venture  to  do  so,  for  there  is  no  .dungeon 
from  which  the  French  people  would  not  have  rescued  him. 
The  only  way  to  prevent  an  outbreak,  was  to  banish  him. 
But,  even  now,  the  interference  of  the  military  is  necessary  to 
restore  order  and  tranquillity.  I  should  not  wonder  if  the 
people  should  force  the  King  to  recall  M.  Necker." 

"My  poor  father!  Such  is  the  gratitude  of  kings!"  cried 
Madame  de  Stael,  mournfully.  "  Yesterday,  still  all-powerful 
on  the  soil  of  France ;  he  is  hastening  to-day  to  the  frontier,  a 
powerless  exile !  I  shall  follow  him.  He  has  more  need  of  me 
in  these  gloomy  hours  than  ever  before.  Nothing  but  love  of 
his  child  can  indemnify  him  for  the  bitter  ingratitude  of  the 
world." 

"  Wait  until  he  informs  you  where  he  has  taken  up  his  resi- 
dence. I  nave  been  told  that  he  has  taken  a  circuitous  route, 
in  order  not  to  be  overtaken  by  the  people." 

"  How  generous !  How  magnanimous ! "  she  exclaimed, 
enthusiastically,  bursting  into  tears.  "  Even  now  he  acts  so 
considerately  toward  a  king  who  never  appreciated  his  worth, 
and,  if  he  did,  never  was  courageous  enough  to  stand  up  for 
him.  He  sits  in  his  palace,  and  must  hear  now  that  hundreds 
of  thousands  are  mourning  over  the  loss  of  a  man  who  was  u 
father  to  all  of  them.  The  voice  of  the  people  is  the  voice  of 
God.  Ah,  Montmorency,  how  difficult  it  is  for  kings  to  rise 
to  that  true  humanity  which  recognizes  the  rights  of  man  !" 

She  paced  up  and  down  her  spacious   apartments  a  long 


NECKER'S  TRIUMPHANT  ENTRY  INTO  PARIS.       259 

time,  while  the  tumult  outside  was  constantly  on  the  increase. 
She  heard  shouts  for  arms,  and  the  terrible  notes  of  the  tocsin, 
and  pressed  her  trembling  hand  to  her  impetuously  throbbing 
heart. 

"My  father  is  far  away,  and  my  husband,  I  do  not  know 
where.  How  deserted  I  am,  in  spite  of  my  brilliant  position ! " 
she  sighed  to  herself,  painfully  impressed  with  the  difference 
between  ardent  admirers  of  her  genius  and  faithful  friends  in 
times  of  need. 

Early  next  morning  there  arrived  a  courier  with  a  letter  from 
Necker,  who  informed  his  daughter  of  the  route  which  he  had 
taken,  and  requested  her  and  M.  de  Stael  to  leave  Paris  as 
quietly  as  he  had  done  himself. 

She  entered  her  traveling-coach  with  a  heavy  heart.  She 
had  not  taken  leave  of  any  of  her  friends,  and  did  not  know 
when  she  would  return  to  the  capital.  She  caused  her  coach- 
man to  drive  her  through  the  most  deserted  streets,  leaning 
in  a  comer,  and  shutting  her  eyes  to  the  frightful  scenes  which 
were  enacted  in  Paris.  When  the  capital  lay  behind  them, 
and  the  green  summer  landscapes  extended  before  them  so 
quietly  and  smilingly,  as  if  peace  reigned  everywhere  on 
earth,  she  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief.  She  left  the  horrors 
of  civil  war  behind  her  in  the  city  which  she  loved  so  dearly, 
and  wept  with  all  her  heart  over  the  fate  which  was  in  store 
for  the  Parisians. 

Upon  reaching  Basel,  she  met  her  parents,  who  had  arrived 
shortly  before.  Necker  was  deeply  dejected.  It  was  with 
extreme  dissatisfaction  that  he  looked  back  to  his  second 
term  of  office,  which  had  terminated  in  so  disastrous  a  man- 
ner. He  sat  most  of  the  time  grave,  and  absorbed  in  his 
thoughts,  and  even  the  presence  of  his  daughter  was  unable  to 
divert  him 


2 GO  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

However,  he  was  not  long  to  remain  the  only  French  exile. 
To  nis  astonishment  he  learned,  early  on  the  following  day, 
that  the  Duchess  de  Polignac  had  arrived ;  and  a  few  hours 
afterward  she  requested  him  to  visit  her. 

Necker  smiled  bitterly  as  he  crumpled  her  note  in  his  hand. 

Like  most  of  the  ladies  of  the  Queen,  the  beautiful  Duchess 
had  treated  the  parvenu  with  undisguised  disdain,  and  often 
given  him  to  understand  that  she  did  not  consider  him  her 
equal.  Necker,  on  his  part,  had  severely  censured  her  extrava- 
gance, and  never  forgiven  her  for  accepting  so  many  costly 
presents  at  the  hands  of  the  Queen. 

Adversity  was  now  to  bring  them  together,  which  prosperity 
had  never  been  able  to  do. 

Necker  learned  from  her  that  his  removal  had  caused  a  terri- 
ble rising,  in  consequence  of  which  many  aristocrats  had  fled, 
and  that  the  Queen  had  dismissed  her  in  order  to  conciliate 
the  people.  "  Without  taking  leave  of  me !  "  she  added,  burst- 
ing into  tears. 

When  he  returned  from  this  visit  to  his  family,  not  without 
inward  satisfaction,  Madame  de  Stael  came  to  meet  him  with  a 
triumphant  air.  "  A  letter  from  the  King ! "  she  exclaimed,  ex- 
ultingly.  "  He  requests  you  to  return  to  Paris." 

Necker  took  the  letter,  but  then  he  shook  his  head  gravely 
and  said,  "  I  shall  not  go.  I  will  not  risk  my  reputation  in  a 
lost  cause." 

"A  lost  cause!"  exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael,  in  dismay. 
"  You  give  up  France  when  your  hand  is  still  able  to  guide 
her  at  pleasure,  when  your  word  is  all-powerful  there,  and 
your  name  alone  is  sufficient  to  fill  her  treasury  ?  You  can  do 
everything  there ;  you  can  make  everything  of  France,  and  she 
is  lost  only  when  Necker  deserts  her." 

He  contemplated  his  daughter  mournfully.    "  It  is  your  heart 


NECKEli's    TRIUMPHANT   ENTRY   INTO   PARIS.         261 

that  looks  at  the  matter  in  this  light,"  he  replied,  shaking  his 
head.  "  Your  head  would  cause  you  to  think  otherwise,  it1 1 
were  not  your  father." 

"Believe  me  just  once,"  she  said,  coaxingly ;  and  she  knelt 
down  before  him  and  pressed  his  hands  to  her  lips.*  "  Yielc* 
for  once  to  the  prayers  of  your  daughter,  who  lays  the  destinies 
of  France  into  your  hand.  Look  forward  to  the  future  with 
courage  and  confidence,  and  surmount  with  bold  energy  the 
objects  obstructing  your  path,  and  you  will  be  certain  to 
achieve  the  most  brilliant  success.  Just  try  again,  my  dear 
father,  and  you  will  attain  your  object.  Place  yourself,  like 
Washington,  at  the  head  of  the  State.  If  need  be,  seize  the 
helm  with  the  strong  hand  of  a  Cromwell ;  secure  respecfrfor  the 
laws  by  compelling  everybody  without  distinction  of  rank  to 
obey  them ;  cause  the  King  to  grant  constitutional  liberties  to 
the  nation ;  and  your  name  will  be  mentioned  in  history  side  by 
side  with  those  of  the  greatest  benefactors  of  mankind.  The 
French  nation  loves  and  idolizes  you ;  it  longs  for  your  return ; 
do  not  desert  it  in  this  hour  of  need !  Listen  to  its  supplica- 
tions, and  do  not  avert  your  face  from  those  who  raise  their  eyes 
imploringly  to  you ! " 

Madame  Necker  joined  them  now,  and  likewise  tried  to  per- 
suade her  husband  to  return  to  Paris.  She  felt  how  difficult 
it  would  be  for  him  to  renounce  the  exciting  life  of  the  capital, 
where  his  popularity  made  him  the  hero  of  the  day,  and  ad- 
miration followed  every  step  he  made.  Much  as  she  herself 
had  need  of  the  quietude  of  Coppet,  and  greatly  as  she  longed 
to  live  in  that  solitude  with  her  husband,  whom  she  still  loved 
with  all  her  heart,  she  was  fearful  lest  the  lonely  life  which  he 
would  lead  there  should  cause  him  to  regret  not  having  em- 
braced the  opportunity  which  was  now  offered  to  return  to  Paris. 
*  Madame  de  Crequis. 


262  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

The  Minister  now  yielded  to  their  joint  prayers,*  and  his 
daughter  ordered  the  carriage  exultingly,  that  they  might  im- 
mediately set  out  for  the  French  capital. 

His  return  was  hailed  with  universal  applause  and  enthusi- 
asm. In  all  the  villages  through  which  he  passed  on  his  way 
to  Paris,  the  church-bells  were  rung;  the  field-laborers  left 
their  work  in  order  to  see  him  ;  the  people  unharnessed  his 
horses  in  order  to  draw  his  carriage ;  women  and  children  knelt 
by  the  wayside  and  implored  heaven  to  preserve  their  protector. 

This  flattering  reception  did  not  leave  him  unmoved.  He 
loved  his  fellow-men,  and  so  he  believed  in  their  love.  Mad- 
ame de  Stael  sat  opposite  to  him  with  radiant  eyes,  and  was 
overjoyed  at  the  enthusiasm  with  which  her  beloved  father 
was  greeted. 

At  a  village-inn  he  fell  in  with  Baron  Bezenval,  whom  the 
people  had  arrested.  He  interceded  immediately  in  behalf  of 
that  worthy  nobleman,  and  begged  the  people  to  release  him, 
and  never  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  revenge.  To  forgive  and 
forget  should  be  their  motto,  and  regenerated  France  should 
obey  only  the  dictates  of  justice  and  humanity. 

Madame  de  Stael  had  performed  the  same  route  with  widely 
different  feelings  two  weeks  ago.  At  that  time  she  left  behind 
her  scenes  of  murder  and  arson,  and  looked  forward  to  an  un- 
certain future ;  now  she  brought  peace  and  harmony  back  to 
Paris,  which  was  agitated  by  all  kinds  of  impetuous  passions. 

Necker  stopped  at  Versailles  in  order  to  wait  on  the  King. 
He  appeared  in  deep  emotion  before  Louis  the  Sixteenth.  He 
,had  served  him  faithfully,  and  had  been  rewarded  with  exile. 
The  thought  of  his  ungrateful  treatment  prevented  him  from 
finding  immediately  the  right  kind  of  words  in  his  address  to 
the  King. 

*  Madame  de  Crequis. 


NECKER'S  TRIUMPHANT  ENTRY  INTO  PARIS.      263 

Marie  Antoinette  received  with  frigid  politeness  the  Minis- 
ter who  had  been  forced  upon  her  husband.  Necker,  in  his 
agitation,  did  not  notice  the  Queen's  reserve;  and  seized, 
deeply  moved,  her  hand,  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips.  At  this 
moment,  an  expression  of  pain  quivered  round  the  lips  of  the 
beautiful  lady.  The  violation  of  etiquette  mortified  her,  even 
at  this  grave  juncture,  so  much  that  it  rendered  her  insensible 
to  the  pulsations  of  a  warm  heart  filled  with  sympathy  for  her. 
So  difficult  is  it  for  queens  to  feel  like  human  beings. 

Amidst  the  jubilant  acclamations  of  the  people,  Necker 
continued  his  triumphal  journey  to  Paris.  The  whole  popula- 
tion of  the  capital  filled  the  streets ;  even  the  roofs  were  cov- 
ered with  spectators,  and  enthusiastic  shouts  of  "  Long  live  M. 
Necker ! "  rent  the  air.* 

When  he  arrived  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  the  cheers  grew  even 
more  deafening  than  before.  Necker  alighted  here,  and  as- 
cended to  the  hall,  in  order  to  communicate  to  the  municipal 
authorities  the  steps  he  had  taken  for  Bezenval's  release. 
Madame  de  Stael  paused  here  for  a  moment,  and  gazed  upon 
the  vast  concourse  of  people  who  had  assembled  here  in  order 
to  pay  homage  to  a  man  whom  she  called  father. 

It  was  the  happiest  moment  of  her  life.  If  her  soul  had 
panted  for  fame,  her  longings  had  been  more  than  fulfilled 
to-day.  She  felt  that  popular  admiration  and  enthusiasm 
could  not  be  raised  to  a  higher  pitch. 

Meanwhile  Necker  urged  the  authorities  to  grant  a  general 
amnesty,  and  all  hearts  joined  in  this  appeal  for  mercy ;  f  the 
whole  people  desired  to  participate  in  this  act  of  general 
clemency ;  they  embraced  and  kissed  each  other,  and  swore  to 
be  friends  for  evermore.  The  great  words  liberte,  egalite,  f rater- 
nite,  were  uttered  for  the  first  time. 

*  " Madame  de  Stael :  Sur  la  Revolution."        t  Bertrand  de  Moleville. 


26-1  MADAME    I>E    STAEL. 

Keeker  now  stepped  out  in  deep  emotion  upon  the  balcony 
opening  upon  the  Place  de  Greve,  and,  accompanied  by  his 
wife  and  daughter,  showed  himself  to  the  vast  multitude  in 
order  to  repeat  in  a  loud  voice  the  heart-stirring  words  of 
peace  which  he  had  spoken  in  the  hall. 

Thousands  upon  thousands  of  voices  cheered  him  to  the 
echo;  not  an  eye  remained  tearless;  even  Madame  Necker  was 
profoundly  moved ;  and  while  she  fondly  clung  to  her  hus- 
band, and  pressed  his  hands  to  her  lips,*  her  daughter,  over- 
come by  her  agitation,  sank  senseless  to  the  ground,  f 

When  Madame  de  Stael  an  hour  afterwards  awoke  to  con- 
sciousness in  her  house,  she  asked  herself  if  she  had  not 
dreamed.  She  slowly  called  to  mind  all  the  scenes  through 
which  she  had  just  passed,  and  built  on  them  anticipations  of  a 
golden  future,  forgetful  of  the  fact  that  the  path  leading  to  the 
longed-for  goal  was  already  marked  by  bloody  traces,  and  that 
the  terrible  specter  of  anarchy  would  not  be  long  in  attaching 
itself  to  the  still  pleasant-sounding  word  Revolution,  which 
had  been  uttered  for  the  first  time  after  the  demolition  of  the 
Bastile. 

Her  eyes  still  red  with  the  tears  which  she  had  shed  for  joy 
over  the  happy  scenes  of  that  eventful  day,  she  sat  in  the  even- 
ing opposite  to  her  father,  and  spoke  of  the  glorious  time  when 
the  people  would  no  longer  suffer  from  hunger,  and  law  and 
order  would  be  re-established  in  Paris. 

At  this  moment  somebody  handed  to  Necker  a  paper  con- 
taining the  news  that  the  decree  granting  a  general  amnesty 
liad  been  rescinded.  Necker  turned  pale. 

The  Government  repented  already  of  what  they  had  granted 
only  four  hours  ago.  This  would  be  a  sad  blow  to  his  own 
authority ;  his  power  would  be  merely  illusory ;  and  his  return 
*  Bertmnd  de  Molevillc.  t  "  Madame  do  Stael :  Sur  la  Revolution." 


NECKEK'S  TRIUMPHANT  ENTRY  INTO  PARIS.      265 

was  evidently  a  faux  pas.  Henceforth  he  did  not  believe 
any  longer  in  his  mission. 

Madame  de  Stael  read  in  his  face  that  something  had  deeply 
mortified  him.  But  he  kept  silence.  She  was  so  happy,  that 
lie  would  not  make  her  heart  heavy  at  this  joyous  hour.  Rem- 
iniscences of  her  childhood,  of  Voltaire  and  his  laurel-wreath, 
arose  in  her  mind.  Then,  as  now,  she  had  seen  the  people  of 
Paris  ascend  to  their  roofs,  and  longed  to  achieve  a  similar 
triumph  one  day. 

This  thought  caused  her  to  sigh.  Since  politics  overshad- 
owed all  other  interests,  she,  too,  thought  only  of  laws  and 
reforms,  and  no  longer  found  time  for  literary  employment. 
Her  life  was  so  eventful,  it  engrossed  all  her  thoughts,  and  she 
could  no  longer  think  of  writing  books. 

When  she  rode  next  morning  through  the  streets,  she  no- 
ticed on  all  hats  and  caps  the  revolutionary  cockade — that  first 
symbol  of  popular  rights.  At  the  same  time  she  learned  that 
many  aristocratic  families,  headed  by  the  Count  d'Artois,  had 
left  Paris.  When  she  visited  the  £pot  where  the  Bastile — that 
ancient  bulwark  of  the  French  monarchy — had  stood,  she  viv- 
idly felt  how  deeply  its  demolition  had  shaken  the  foundations 
of  France.  She  lingered  a  long  time  on  the  place,  which  now 
presented  a  desolate  appearance,  and  a  foreboding  told  her 
that  a  constitution  could  not  be  easily  built  on  such  a  ground. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  DKEAMS   OP  THE  EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY. 

EVERY  century  is  the  bearer  of  certain  ideas,  which,  after  be- 
ing followed  up  to  their  extreme  limits,  are  suddenly  deserted 
and  exposed  to  the  derision  of  coming  generations.  When  we 
call  to  mind  on  what  grounds  France  built  her  hopes  at  that 
time,  we  feel  tempted  to  call  them  childish  dreams ;  for  we 
have  long  since  advanced  beyond  the  stand-points  occupied  by 
the  politicians  of  that  period. 

Parisian  society  had  never  perhaps  been  so  interesting  and 
versatile  as  at  that  juncture,  and  despite  the  black  clouds 
rising  in  the  political  horizon,  the  higher  classes  still  gayly  in- 
dulged in  the  wonted  pleasures  of  social  life.  Every  one  now 
formed  political  views  of  his  own;  men  and  women  joined  cer- 
tain parties;  and,  in  trying  to  win  adherents,  all  became 
eloquent,  and  hankered  after  popularity.  They  tried  to  con- 
vince those  who  differed  with  them  not  only  by  oral,  but  also 
by  written  arguments ;  and  thus  the  number  of  pamphlets  and 
journals  was  constantly  on  the  increase,  and  every  club  and 
every  party  had  soon  an  organ  of  its  own. 

Only  Necker,  as  before,  stood  alone  and  confined  to  his  own 
strength.  His  third  term  of  office  began  with  a  defeat,  fol- 
lowed by  several  others,  all  of  which  were  entirely  tmexpected. 
In  the  day-time  he  was  tormented  with  petitions,  many  of 
which  wrung  tears  from  his  eyes ;  and  in  the  night-time  he 
would  often  start  up  from  his  bed  in  order  to  escape  the  terri- 


THE  DREAMS  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.   267 

ble  apparitions  staring  at  him  with  hollow  eyes,  anil  crying  for 
bread.  His  heart  suffered  so  much  that  he  fell  a  prey  to  a  dis- 
ease which  afterward  killed  him.* 

Whenever  Madame  de  Stael  went  to  her  father,  she  met  in 
the  streets  crowds  of  persons  in  quest  of  bread ;  in  front  of  the 
bakers'  shops  they  formed  in  long  lines,  and  were  admitted  one 
after  another.  But  she  was  still  full  of  hope — hope  in  the  ideal 
of  her  life ;  hope  in  the  salutary  effects  of  a  liberal  constitu- 
tion. 

Man  lives  on  illusions.  As  soon  as  they  are  realized,  h"e 
drops  them  and  takes  up  new  play-things. 

Necker  and  his  wife  had  taken  up  their  residence  at  Versailles 
in  order  to  be  close  to  the  King.  His  daughter  was  unable  to 
accompany  him ;  she  had  given  birth  to  her  first  child,  and 
Necker  pressed  his  grandson,  Augustus,  with  tears  of  joy  to  his 
heart.  The  more  eagerly  she  read  every  word  referring  to 
her  father.  Every  morning,  as  soon  as  she  awoke,  the  news- 
papers were  brought  to  her,  and  as  poor  Necker  was  now  held 
responsible  for  a  great  many  things  of  which  he  was  entirely 
guiltless,  her  indignation  at  such  unjust  criticisms  frequently 
knew  no  bounds,  and  her  agitation  in  consequence  often  was 
so  great  that  she  fainted.  The  free  press  availed  itself  of  its 
rights ;  it  refused  to  acknowledge  that  it  was  admissible  only 
in  a  nation  whose  moral  sense  was  highly  developed  ;  for  they 
looked  upon  France  as  the  world;  popularity,  the  idol  to 
which  all  were  now  paying  homage,  had  not  yet  lost  its  halo 
either,  despite  what  experience  had  taught  her  in  regard  to  her 
father. 

The  summer  had  passed  by ;  of  its  verdure  but  little  more 
had  been  seen  than  the  leaves  from  the  garden  of  the  Palais 
Royal,  which  had  been  used  as  cockades.  Who  cared  whether 
*  Bertram!  de  Moleville. 


268  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

or  not  the  roses  had  bloomed  ?  Nobody  devoted  his  precious 
time  to  the  beautiful,  and  the  arts  were  neglected ;  everybody 
wanted  to  know  only  if 'the  crops  would  be  good,  so  that  the 
people  would  have  bread  again,  and  that  the  deficit  might  be 
paid. 

Autumn  came,  and  the  leaves  fell  from  the  trees ;  but  the 
hopes  of  the  people  remained  as  green  as  ever.  Madame  de 
Stael  received  now  only  friends  of  the  constitution,  and  took 
pains  to  influence  them  so  that  the  constitution  might  embrace 
such  features  as  she  deemed  peculiarly  desirable.  As  a  woman 
she  could  participate  but  indirectly  in  the  great  task  of  the 
regeneration  of  France,  which  she  often  felt  very  bitterly.  It 
was  very  difficult  for  her  to  amuse  and  direct  the  enthusiasm 
of  men  sympathizing  with  her,  and  yet  to  prevent  them  from 
entering  the  wrong  path.  It  is  so  difficult  for  men  to  under- 
stand that  the  ardent  sympathies  of  a  woman  may  be  bestowed 
on  a  grave  cause,  and  their  vanity  always  is  prone  to  transfer 
to  themselves  the  interest  which  she  manifests. 

Every  gifted  woman  meets  with  this  difficulty ;  how,  then, 
could  Madame  de  Stael  expect  not  to  encounter  it  ?  She  had 
loved  Mathieu  de  Montmorency  as  she  would  never  be  able  to 
love  again.  Such  early  love-affairs  leave  in  the  heart  traces 
which  never  fade  from  it.  She  felt  for  him  a  certain  tender 
attachment,  which  manifested  itself  in  the  delicate  solicitude 
with  which  she  always  treated  him ;  and  his  excellent  char- 
acter permitted  her  to  convert  this  attachment  into  relations 
of  friendship,  which  were  to  terminate  only  with  her  death. 

The  gifted  and  prepossessing  Narbonne  had  endeared  him- 
self to  her  in  a  different  manner.  She  had  recognized  his 
susceptibility  for  all  that  was  great  and  beautiful,  and  it  af- 
forded her  the  most  exquisite  pleasure  to  play  on  the  strings 
of  his  lofty  and  cultivated  mind.  To  dominate  such  a  char- 


THE  DREAMS  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTUKT.   269 

acter,  gladdened  her  heart;  to  guide  such  a  man, gratified  both 
her  vanity  and  pride.  As  he,  on  his  part,  longed  to  attach 
himself  to  a  person  who  took  pains  to  convince  him  of  the 
truth  of  his  views,  the  intercourse  with  Madame  de  Stael  be- 
came daily  more  indispensable  to  him. 

Beside  these  two  friends,  she  now  saw  the  Bishop  of  Autun 
very  frequently  ;  she  could  not  boast,  however,  of  exercising 
any  influence  over  him.  When  she  had  seemingly  won  a 
victory  over  him,  she  found  that  he  adroitly  slipped  from  her 
hands.  Inasmuch  as  he  never  warmed  in  any  cause,  the  ad- 
vantage always  remained  on  his  side ;  the  more  so,  as  Madame 
de  Stael  always  got  excited  in  her  argument,  and  allowed  her- 
self to  be  carried  away  by  the  subject  which  engrossed  her 
thoughts,  so  that  she  made  a  long  speech  on  it  before  she 
permitted  her  opponent  to  reply.  This  way  of  repelling  con- 
tradiction often  misled  her  as  to  the  real  views  of  her  oppo- 
nent, and  prevented  her  from  fully  mastering  her  subject,  in 
consequence  of  just  objections  made  to  her  argument. 

One  morning  in  October,  when  she  was  still  reading  the 
news  of  the  preceding  clay,  her  valet  de  chambre  told  her  that 
half  the  population  of  Paris  had  set  out  for  Versailles  in  order 
to  ask  bread  of  the  King.  Madame  de  Stael  turned  pale  on 
hearing  this.  If  they  intended  to  apply  to  the  King,  they 
would  not  forbear  to  ask  the  same  thing  of  Necker.  She  or- 
dered the  carriage  and  started  immediately  for  Versailles. 

She  could  not  go  thither  by  the  high  road,  which  was  occu- 
pied by  the  riotous  populace  of  Paris,  but  took  a  circuitous 
route,  by  which  she  arrived  at  Versailles  before  vthe  Parisians 
had  reached  it.  Her  father  was  already  with  the  King,  and 
her  mother  had  followed  him  as  far  as  the  royal  ante-room,  in 
order  to  share  his  fate,  no  matter  what  might  befall  him. 

She  hastened  likewise  to  the  royal  palace. 


270  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

Madame  Neckcr  sat  on  a  tabouret  in  a  window-niche  in  the 
room  of  Louis  the  Sixteenth,  while  a  number  of  courtiers 
were  assembled  in  various  parts  of  the  room,  and  conversed 
with  an  air  of  intense  anxiety. 

Madame  de  Stael  walked  through  their  ranks  and  seated 
herself  beside  her  mother.  The  uneasiness  of  the  courtiers 
was  constantly  on  the  increase,  until  Lafayette  made  his  ap- 
pearance and  promised  them  protection.  "  There  is  our 
Cromwell,"  whispered  a  cavalier,  as  he  entered  the  room. 
"  Cromwell  would  not  come  alone"  calmly  replied  Lafayette, 
and  entered  the  King's  room,  where  he  found  Necker,  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands,  and  his  heart  full  of  grief  at  the  new  cries 
of  distress  uttered  by  the  famished  people. 

It  was  not  until  midnight  that  the  Minister  and  his  family 
retired.  By  a  covered  passage  they  repaired  from  the  King's 
apartments  to  Necker's  residence,  some  of  Lafayette's  guards- 
men having  previously  been  stationed  at  both  outlets  of  the 
passage.  They  passed  a  dreadful  night. 

Necker  shudderingly  looked  forward  to  the  coming  day,  and 
his  wife  and  daughter  likewise  were  a  prey  to  the  most  intense 
anxiety.  He  trembled  for  France,  and  they  were  fearful  of  the 
dangers  to  which  lie  was  exposed. 

At  break  of  day  Madame  de  Stael  was  aroused  by  a  noise  in 
her  room.  She  started  up  and  saw  a  lady  with  whom  she  was 
not  acquainted.  "  Pardon  me  for  begging  an  asylum  of  you ! " 
she  said.  "  I  am  the  Countess  Choiseul-Gouffier.  Assassins 
have  penetrated  to  the  Queen's  room  ;  she  has  fled  to  the  King. 
There  is  no  logger  any  safety  for  us  in  the  palace." 

"  And  my  father  ?  "  cried  Madame  de  Stael,  jumping  up  and 
ringing  the  bell. 

M.  Necker  had  already  repaired  to  the  King.  Mme.  de  Stael 
hastened  to  follow  him  thither.  On  the  way  to  the  palace 


THE    DREAMS    OF   THE    EIGHTEENTH    CEXTUKY.        271 

reports  of  muskets  fell  on  her  ears,  and  in  the  gallery  her 
feet  touched  bloody  traces.    She  averted  her  face,  shudder- 

ingly- 

In  the  ante-room  she  found  the  Garde  du  Corps  exchanging 
cockades  with  the  National  Guard,  and  shouting,  "  Viee  La- 
fayette !  " 

The  young  Embassadress  passed  courageously  through  the 
ranks  of  the  soldiers,  and  entered  the  second  room,  where  she 
found  Madame  Necker  and  many  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the 
court  The  Queen  entered  the  room  at  the  same  moment. 
Her  hair  was  disheveled,  her  cheeks  were  livid ;  but  her  bear- 
ing was  dignified.  Her  ^appearance  made  a  deep  impression. 
In  obedience  to  the  shouts  of  the  multitude,  she  had  stepped 
out  on  the  balcony  with  her  children,  her  features  expressing 
disdain;  but  better  counsels  prevailed  among  her  enemies, 
and  she  was  greeted  with  cheers.  When  she  withdrew  from 
the  balcony,  she  said,  sobbing,  to  Madame  Necker: 

"  They  want  to  compel  the  King  and  me  to  go  to  Paris,  and 
they  are  going  to  carry  the  heads  of  our  Garde  du  Corps  on 
pikes  before  us." 

Madame  decker  deplored  this  purpose  of  the  populace  with 
all  her  heart. 

When  the  royal  family  finally  left  Versailles,  Necker  and 
his  wife  and  daughter  likewise  returned  to  Paris  by  a  circui- 
tous and  deserted  route.  They  conversed  but  little  on  the  road. 
The  sun  shone  brightly  in  the  cloudless  sky,  and  nature  was 
clad  in  her  richest  attire,  but  men  did  not  feast  their  eyes  on 
it.  At  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  tepid  zephyrs  played  with  the 
first-falling  leaves,  and  kissed  caressingly  the  cheeks  of  the 
passers-by.  Necker  gazed  thoughtfully  upon  the  quiet  land- 
scape, while  his  ears  listened  already  for  the  voices  of  the  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  who  were  returning  to  Paris.  His  heart 


272  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

was  overwhelmed  with  grief.  What  will  be  the  end  of  all  this? 
he  asked  himself. 

Madame  de  Stael,  noticing  his  depression,  pressed  his  hand 
to  her  lips,  and  looked  at  him  tenderly.  "  Courage,  my  dear 
father ! "  she  said.  "  As  soon  as  the  constitution  has  been 
adopted,  the  people  will  cool  down." 

Necker  shook  his  head,  despondingly.  The  constitution 
would  not  furnish  bread  to  the  people. 

When  the  King  reached  Paris,  he  repaired  to  the  Hotel  de 
Ville.  Necker  and  his  family  followed  him  thither.  The 
Mayor  of  Paris  received  him  there. 

"  I  return  with  pleasure  to  my  dear,  Paris,"  said  Louis  the 
Sixteenth. 

"And  with  confidence,"  added  the  Queen. 

On  the  following  morning,  Marie  Antoinette  held  a  levee  at 
the  Tuileries.  The  whole  diplomatic  corps,  and  M.  de  Stael 
and  his  wife,  too,  were  present,  in  order  to  render  their 
respects  to  the  royal  couple.  For  a  whole  century  the  ancient 
palace  had  been  deserted  by  the  kings  of  France,  and  the  eyes 
of  the  beholders  fell  everywhere  on  the  traces  of  a  past,  which 
strangely  seemed  to  mock  the  present.  The  Queen  had  found 
that  no  preparations  had  been  made  for  her  reception  ;  in  the 
hurry,  a  room  had  been  arranged  for  her  and  her  children. 
Field-beds  had  been  placed  in  this  rcom  for  them.  It  was 
amidst  such  surroundings  that  the  proud  daughter  of  Maria 
Theresa  had  to  present  the  spectacle  of  her  fallen  greatness  to 
the  eyes  of  the  Embassadors  of  all  courts. 

"  Vous sauriez  que  je  ne  m'attendais  pas  d  venir  id"  she  said, 
as  if  apologetically,  to  the  assembled  ladies,  who  could  not  but 
look  at  her  compassionately.  The  parvenu's  daughter,  whom 
she  had  formerly  looked  down  on  so  haughtily,  would  not 
have  liked  to  be  in  her  place  now. 


THE   DREAMS    OF    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY.       273 

Necker  remained  in  Paris,  whither  the  Assembled  Constitu- 
ante  had  likewise  to  transfer  its  seat.  The  more  convenient  it 
was  for  Madame  de  Stael  to  follow  its  debates.  But  she  was 
not  long  in  perceiving  that  no  one  was  any  longer  at  liberty 
to  act  in  consonance  with  his  convictions,  but  had  to  swim 
with  the  tide  of  popular  opinion,  unless  he  was  ready  to  re- 
nounce all  influence  over  the  course  of  events. 

"  It  cannot  be  reiterated  too  often,"  she  said  to  Narbonne, 
"  that  both  nations  and  individuals  have  only  moments  of 
luck  and  power,  which,  if  allowed  to  pass  by  without  being 
turned  to  account,  will  never  return.  So  you  should  profit  by 
the  favorable  moment." 

In  this  manner  she  sought  to  stimulate  his  ambition,  and 
incite  him  to  vigorous  action.  But  as  her  father  was  unable  to 
lend  his  character  to  the  King,  so  she  could  not  infuse  her 
energy  and  enthusiasm  into  Narbonne. 

With  the  approach  of  winter  came  the  wonted  series  of 
amusements.  Despite  the  deficit  and  famine,  the  embassadors 
received  their  friends  regularly,  and  Necker  gave  quite  a  num- 
ber of  soirees.  Dinner-parties  and  concerts  added  to  the  gayety 
of  social  life  in  the  circles  of  the  aristocracy,  while  the  people 
grumbled  loudly  at  the  extravagance  reigning  in  the  palace. 
Many  noblemen,  however,  deemed  it  prudent  to  leave  the 
country,  and  every  day  were  heard  the  names  of  new  fami- 
lies who  sought  abroad  protection  from  the  storm  which  was 
about  to  burst  forth,  and  whose  outbreak  they  accelerated 
by  their  precipitate  flight  from  France. 

Meanwhile  a  new  page  had  been  added  to  the  geography  of 
France;  she  had  been  united  into  one  state,  with  the  same 
coins  and  laws,  and  the  whole  people  looked  with  intense  de- 
light upon  the  extensive  boundaries  of  the  new  united  country. 
A  brilli.mt  festival  was  to  be  celebrated  on  the  Champs  de  Mars 


274  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

in  honor  of  this  important  event;  and  the  King,  as  if  derisively, 
had  appointed  M.  de  Talleyrand  to  consecrate  the  oriflamme 
on  this  occasion  upon  the  altar  of  the  country.  Madame  de 
Stael  was  present  at  this  ceremony,  whose  symbolic  meaning 
made  a  deep  impression  on  her.  With  tearful  eyes,  she  gazed 
upon  the  vast  concourse  of  people,  who  greeted  each  other  ex- 
ultingly,  as  sons  of  a  common  country.  "  They  are  now 
awaking  to  a  sense  of  their  dignity  as  men,"  she  said  to  herself; 
"  they  learn  to  appreciate  the  meaning  of  the  great  words, 
liberty  and  equality."  Overjoyed,  like  the  rest  of  the  spectators 
she  returned  from  the  festival  to  her  house. 

Necker,  meanwhile,  became  more  and  more  desponding  in 
looking  forward  to  the  future;  his  popularity  decreased  very 
rapidly,  and  his  health  was  sensibly  affected.  The  situation  of 
the  King  was  not  less  deplorable.  Despite  her  longing  for  a 
constitution,  Madame  de  Stael  could  not  see  him  without  pro- 
found compassion  in  this  dependent  position ;  and,  always  ready 
as  her  warm  heart  was  to  help  and  relieve  sufferers,  she  reflected 
on  the  best  means  by  which  the  King  might  be  extricated  from 
this  piteous  predicament.  She  conceived  a  plan  for  his 
escape,  and  caused  it  to  be  laid  before  him.  But  Louis  the 
Sixteenth  had  no  confidence  in  the  plan  of  such  an  enthusias- 
tic lady,  whose  ardent  and  sanguine  temperament  had  always 
been  distasteful  to  him.  So,  shaking  his  head,  he  pushed  her 
letter  aside. 

She  was  very  sorry  at  this  rejection  of  her  suggestions.  Like 
all  women  who  always  act  with  their  hearts  rather  than  their 
heads,  she  would  have  staked  everything  on  everything,  while 
men  never  lose  sight  of  their  own  interests  in  promoting  those 
of  others. 

The  unsuccessful  flight  of  the  royal  family  proved  this 
abundantly. 


THE    DREAMS    OF  THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.      275 

On  the  8th  of  September,  1790,  Necker,  with  his  wife  and 
grandson,  quietly  left  Paris,  never  to  return  to  it.  Fifteen 
months  had  elapsed  since  he  had  made  his  triumphal  entry 
into  the  capital,  and  since  the  people  had  fastened  to  his  door 
a  plate,  bearing  the  inscription,  " Necker,  le  Minislre,  adore" 
And  now  no  one  took  any  notice  of  his  departure. 

Deeply  grieved  and  despondent,  he  bade  a  long  and  mourn- 
ful farewell  to  his  daughter.  In  doing  so,  he  took  leave  of 
life,  of  his  political  life,  of  his  wishes  and  hopes,  and,  above 
all,  of  his  fame,  whose  shadow  now  pursued  him. 

Madame  de  Stael  remained  in  Paris.  She  could  not  now 
leave  the  scene  of  her  hopes ;  what  her  father  had  been  unable 
to  accomplish  for  France,  she  might  help  her  friends  to 
achieve.  Necker  himself  was  desirous  that  she  should  stay  in 
Paris ;  for  he  knew  his  daughter  too  well  not  to  foresee  that 
her  feverish  agitation  would  prove  fatal  to  her  in  the  solitudes 
of  Coppet. 

The  King's  sisters,  accompanied  by  Narbonne,  had  set  out 
for  Rome.  When  he  returned,  Madame  de  Stael's  sagacious 
counsels  enabled  him  to  obtain  the  office  of  Minister  of  War.* 
She  was  delighted  with  this  success,  which  she  enjoyed  as  if 
she  herself  had  obtained  that  important  position.  Mirabeau 
had  died ;  a  powerful  party -leader  disappeared  with  him  from 
the  scene,  and  she  hoped  to  replace  him  by  Narbonne,  and 
inspired  him  with  that  self-reliance  which  a  man  needs,  who 
wants  to  exercise  influence  over  the  people,  and  render  it 
obedient  to  his  wishes. 

*Bertrand  de  Moleville. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    TOCSIN    OF   PARIS. 

GREAT  characters  are  products  of  their  times.  A  struggle 
for  ideas  developes  ideas.  Never  before,  therefore,  had  so 
many  gifted  men  appeared  in  the  public  arena,  as  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  French  Revolution. 

Madame  de  Stael  admired  nothing  so  much  as  a  gifted  mind. 
She  was  unable  to  appreciate  the  beauties  of  nature,  whose 
low  and  sweet  notes  did  not  charm  her  ears,  and  the  vast 
realm  of  art  was  as  yet  closed  to  her.  Intercourse  with  tal- 
dhted  men  was  the  only  pleasure  which  she  was  able  to  enjoy. 
Wherever  she  discovered  an  able  man,  she  paid  homage  to 
him,  even  though  he  belonged  to  the  party  of  her  adversaries. 

Hituerto,  she  had  lived  in  and  with  her  father,  and  had 
looked  upon  his  fame  as  her  own.  Since  his  star  had  set, 
since  his  popularity  had  vanished,  and  he  had  finally  turned 
his  back  upon  France,  she  was  surprised  to  find  how  depen- 
dent she  was  on  others.  Her  sex  prevented  her  from  taking 
an  active  part  in  political  life,  and  she  had  to  remain  invisible, 
in  bringing  about  measures  which  she  deemed  indispensable 
to  the  welfare  of  the  nation.  She  thirsted  for  political  fame 
and  popularity,  and  could  not  obtain  either,  except  through 
others.  She  had  to  infuse  her  sagacity  and  energy  into  a  man, 
nnd  let  him  turn  her  talents  to  account.  It  cost  her  a  struggle 
to  do  so  ;  but  she  could  not  gratify  her  ambition  in  any  other 
\vay. 


THE   TOCSIN   OP  PARIS.  277 

She  was  now  twenty-five  years  old.  Taking  a  very  bold 
view  of  political  affairs,  she  desired  to  shape  the  course  of 
events  in  accordance  with  her  convictions.  For  this  purpose, 
she  gathered  representatives  of  the  various  parties  about  her, 
and  even  attempted  to  bring  about  a  compromise  between 
them.  But  these  efforts  were  wasted.  She  was  unable  to 
stem  the  tide  of  events. 

From  under  the  long  lashes  of  her  lustrous  black  ej-es  there 
beamed  no  less  pride  than  tenderness.*  The  flames  which 
burned  in  them  kindled  enthusiasm,  not  only  for  the  cause  to 
which  she  sought  to  win  adherents  with  the  eloquence  of  a 
Mirabeau,  but  also  for  the  lady  who  advocated  it  with  so 
much  ardor.  She  was  generally  admired,  and  the  applause 
bestowed  on  her  gladdened  her  heart.  The  days  which  she 
passed  amidst  these  political  troubles  were  the  happiest  of  her 
life. 

The  Constitution,  for  which  she  had  longed  so  ardently, 
had,  meanwhile,  been  completed  and  submitted  to  the  King, 
who,  since  his  flight,  had  been  imprisoned  at  the  Tuileries. 

Madame  de  Stael  dissented  from  this  mode  of  proceeding. 
She  felt  the  disgrace  heaped  on  royalty,  and  sympathized, 
from  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  with  the  King  and  Queen,  at 
every  humiliation  which  was  inflicted  on  them.  In  her  per- 
son were  mixed  the  three  elements  of  the  Revolution ;  ac- 
cording to  her  rank,  she  was  an  aristocrat ;  by  birth  she  be- 
longed to  the  popular  classes,  and  her  talents  placed  her  in  the 
ranks  of  the  representatives  of  science  and  literature.  Thus 
one  principle  was  always  in  conflict  with  another  in  her 
breast,  and  she  would  not  allow  any  of  them  to  achieve  a 
complete  triumph  over  the  others. 

Her  wish  to  procure  M.  de  Narbonne  a  seat  in  the  Cabinet 

*  T.nniartine. 


278  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

after  her  father's  resignation  had  been  fulfilled ;  through  him 
she  now  had  a  vote  in  the  Cabinet,  and  she  left  no  stone  un- 
turned in  order  to  realize  her  plans. 

But  she  found  again  on  this  occasion,  that,  as  she  had  ofteu 
said,  we  are  unable  to  infuse  our  character  into  other  per- 
sons ;  for  M.  de  Narbonne  proved  unequal  to  his  position. 
Guided  by  an  able  woman,  he  pursued  the  path  which  she 
marked  out  for  him;  but  his  heart  was  not  enthusiastically  in 
the  cause.  Like  Madame  de  Stael,  he  wished  to  see  equality 
before  the  law  established  in  France,  but  not  at  the  expense  of 
the  existing  relations  and  institutions;  and  such  moderate 
views  were  repudiated  everywhere. 

M.  de  Montmorency  had  proposed  to  abolish  the  titles  of  the 
nobility.  Madame  de  Stael  differed  with  him  on  this  point. 
Reminiscences  cannot  be  effaced,  and  the  merits  of  his  ances- 
tors are  sacred  to  every  cultivated  man.  She  warned  him 
against  the  inefficiency  of  this  step,  but  he  refused  to  listen  to 
her.  The  Bishop  of  Autun  moved  to  confiscate  the  estates  of 
the  clergy ;  he  it  was,  too,  who  made  them  secular  priests,  and 
set  them  the  example  of  repudiating  the  celibate.  Madame  de 
Stael  did  not  approve  this  either.  She  wished  for  a  constitu- 
tion such  as  England  possessed,  and  she  declared  that  these 
means  were  not  in  keeping  with  the  object  But  the  universal 
thirst  for  popularity  shut  all  ears  to  sensible  advice ;  every- 
body paid  homage  to  the  clamor  of  an  excited  multitude 
•which  did  not  understand  its  own  interests,  and,  instead  of 
leading,  should  have  been  led.  They  yielded,  from  cowardice 
and  selfishness,  to  the  most  senseless  demands,  in  order  to  rule 
by  the  favor  of  the  people. 

M.  de  Stael  took  no  part  in  these  events.  Satiated  with  life 
and  in  feeble  health,  he  allowed  his  young  wife  to  do  as  she 
pleased.  The  death  of  his  King  finally  aroused  him  from  his 


THE   TOCSIN    OF  PARIS.  270 

apathy,  and  compelled  him  to  make  a  trip  to  Sweden.  His 
wife  did  not  accompany  him.  Madame  de  Stael  would  not 
have  left  France  at  this  juncture  under  any  circumstances,  in- 
asmuch as  she  still  hoped  to  exercise  a  salutary  influence 
over  the  destinies  of  the  country.  She  was  fearful  lest  Nar- 
bonne,  without  her  assistance,  should  be  unequal  to  his  task ; 
but  he  was  unable  to  maintain  himself  even  with  her  aid. 
Talleyrand  was  in  England,  where  he  was  to  try  to  enlist  the 
Cabinet  of  St.  James  in  the  cause  of  the  French  Eevolution ; 
when  he  returned  to  Paris,  he  heard  that  his  friend  Narbonne 
had  been  dismissed. 

"  He  was  unable  to  maintain  himself,  because  he  makes  a 
most  injudicious  use  of  his  tongue,"  said  the  handsome  Bishop 
to  Madame  de  Stael.  "  He  always  wants  to  express  his 
thoughts  with  it,  while  language  was  given  to  us  for  the  pur- 
pose of  concealing  them." 

This  did  not  console  her.  She  had  lost  the  organ  by  which 
she  gave  utterance  to  her  ambition,  and  she  was  now  at  a  loss 
to  know  how  she  might  influence  public  opinion. 

Narbonne  had  set  out  for  the  army  of  the  North  as  soon  as 
he  had  been  removed.  Accustomed  as  she  had  been  for  a 
long  time  to  see  and  consult  with  him  daily  as  to  the  course 
to  be  pursued  by  him,  she  missed  him  painfully,  even  in  her 
domestic  circle.  She  longed  for  his  return,  and  accused  her- 
self of  not  having  taught  him  that  prudence  and  caution 
which  she  possessed  least  of  all. 

The  clubs  and  meetings  did  not  now  interest  her  near  as 
much,  since  no  voice  spoke  for  her  there  any  longer.  She 
walked  sadly  through  her  apartments,  which  seemed  so  lonely 
to  her.  Although  the  stirring  events  of  the  day  still  attracted  her 
attention  and  sympathies  as  much  as  ever,  they  no  longer  glad- 
dened her  heart,  since  she  could  no  longer  play  a  part  in  them. 


280  MADAMB   DE    STAEL. 

She  tried  to  enter  into  more  intimate  relations  with  M.  de 
Talleyrand.  Vain  endeavor!  No  matter  how  amiable,  inter- 
esting, and  agreeable  he  was  at  hter  soirees  and  in  her  tete-a-tete1  s 
with  him,  she  never  was  able  to  draw  from  him  a  word  in 
regard  to  his  true  intentions.  "  He  is  like  a  sensitive  plant," 
she  said  one  day ;  "  he  closes  at  the  slightest  touch."  * 

Meanwhile  the  summer  of  1792  came,  and  now  there  ensued 
convulsions  which  rendered  a  sojourn  in  Paris  exceedingly 
dangerous.  Pethion  and  Marat  began  to  rule  supreme.  All 
those  who  were  able  to  leave  the  soil  of  France  went  abroad, 
but  Madame  de  Stael  remained  in  Paris.  Distasteful  as  the  pro- 
gress of  the  Revolution  was  to  her,  she  was  unable  to  leave  the 
capital,  where  she  was  a  prey  to  incessant  excitement  and  sus- 
pense. 

Social  life  lost  its  charms  since  a  coarse  and  brutal  tone 
began  to  prevail.  The  newspapers  breathed  a  spirit  highly 
distasteful  to  a  lady  brought  up  in  the  school  of  Rousseau  and 
Voltaire.  She  disliked  the  practice  of  using  such  bad  and 
vulgar  style.  Human  language,  in  her  opinion,  had  never  been 
abused  in  this  manner,  and  she  said  only  the  howls  of  wild 
beasts  could  be  rendered  in  such  words. 

The  anniversary  of  the  14th  of  July  was  to  be  celebrated. 
Madame  de  Stael,  as  the  wife  of  a  foreign  embassador,  occupied 
a  seat  close  to  the  Queen,  and  perceived  distinctly  the  painful 
impression  which  the  celebration  produced  on  the  unfortunate 
princess.  Marie  Antoinette  sat  bathed  in  tears,  and  looked  on, 
as  her  husband,  in  his  powdered  wig,  the  only  one  among  so 
many  black  heads,  and  in  his  gold-embroidered  coat,  ascended 
the  altar  of  the  country,  and  took  another  oath  to  obey  a  con- 
stitution which  was  to  bring  him  to  the  scaffold.  The  people 
saw  him  to-day  for  the  last  time. 

*  Monsieur  de  Talleyrand.    Vol.  II. 


THE   TOCSIN   OF   PARTS.  ?81 

Madame  de  Stael  returned  from  the  celebration  in  profound 
grief,  to  her  house,  and  for  a  long  time  was  unable  to  banish 
from  her  mind  the  painful  impression  which  the  poor  royal 
family  had  made  upon  her. 

"  Matters  cannot  go  on  in  this  manner ! "  she  cried,  wringing 
her  hands.  "  This  cannot  be  tolerated  any  longer.  It  is  cruel. 
It  is  cowardly  murder." 

But  all  her  friends  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  her ;  none  of  them 
were  willing  to  risk  anything  in  behalf  of  a  lost  cause. 

"  You  are  like  those,"  said  Talleyrand  to  her,  smilingly, 
"  who  first  set  fire  to  a  house,  and  then  want  to  save  the  in- 
mates." * 

"  The  remark  is  charming,"  replied  Madame  de  Stael,  "  but 
unfortunately  it  does  not  improve  the  prospects  of  the  cause." 

Her  words  met  with  no  response  amidst  the  uproar.  The 
evening  of  the  9th  of  August  came.  The  forty-eight  bells  of 
Paris  rang  their  gloomy  and  monotonous  alarm.  Madame  de 
Stael,  who  stood  with  her  friends  at  the  open  window,  listened 
to  this  death-knell  of  an  ancient  monarchy,  and  anxiously 
looked  forward  to  the  events  of  the  morrow.  The  whole 
night  passed  in  breathless  suspense.  At  7  in  the  morning, 
finally,  the  booming  of  artillery  drowned  the  dull  sounds  of  the 
tocsin.  The  people  hurried  through  the  streets.  Madame  de 
Stael  received  every  quarter  of  an  hour  reports  of  the  progress 
of  the  insurrection.  The  Tuileries  had  been  surrounded,  the 
sentinels  had  been  attacked  and  slain. 

Upon  receiving  this  news,  Madame  de  Stael  immediately 
ordered  her  carriage.  She  had  many  friends  among  the  officers 
at  the  Tuileries,  among  whom  was  M.  de  Narbonne,  too.  She 
wanted  to  ascertain  whether  or  not  they  were  safe.  When  she 
arrived  at  the  bridge,  her  coachman  was  stopped,  and  informed 
*  Allouville,  Memoirs. 


MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

that  he  and  his  mistress  would  doubtless  be  murdered  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bridge.  Madame  de  Stael,  however,  insisted 
on  advancing.  Two  hours  elapsed  in  vain  efforts  to  do  so.  At 
length  word  was  brought  to  her  that  her  Mends  were  safe ;  but 
they  had  been  compelled  to  conceal  themselves. 

After  nightfall  she  hastened  on  foot  through  the  streets,  and 
visited  her  friends  in  their  places  of  concealment.  Everywhere 
were  to  be  seen  drunken  men,  who,  sword  in  hand,  had  fallen 
asleep  on  the  threshold  or  door-steps  of  the  houses.  She  per- 
formed her  self-imposed  task  courageously,  frequently  shutting 
Her  eyes  to  the  horrors  which  obstructed  her  path. 

Henceforth  no  one  was  safe  in  Paris ;  even  the  most  ardent 
advocates  of  the  constitution  could  save  themselves  only  by 
precipitate  flight,  and  hastened  to  the  army  of  the  north.  The 
troops  of  Austria  and  Prussia  had  already  crossed  the  frontier; 
as  soon  as  they  should  come  close  up  to  Paris,  a  wholesale 
massacre  might  be  looked  for  at  the  capital. 

M.  de  Narbonne  and  M.  de  Montmorency  were  no  longer 
safe  in  their  hiding-places ;  so  Madame  de  Stael  took  them  in 
the  dead  of  night  to  her  house,  locked  them  up  in  one  of  the 
back  rooms,  and  watched  herself  over  their  safety.  Narborine, 
being  an  ex-minister,  would  have  been  immediately  killed 
if  his  whereabouts  should  be  discovered,  and  she  listene^ 
tremblingly  to  all  footsteps,  fearful  lest  some  traitor  should 
conduct  the  police  to  her  house  and  cause  her  friend  to  be 
arrested. 

This  terrible  state  of  suspense  could  not  last  for  any  length 
of  time;  the  danger  was  so  threatening  that  something  4iad  to 
be  risked.  At  this  juncture  Dr.  Bollmann,  an  honest  Hano- 
verian, the  same  who  afterwards  rescued  General  Lafayette 
from  an  Austrain  dungeon,  visited  Madame  de  Stael,  and, 
deeply  moved  by  the  anguish  of  the  young  Embassadrcss, 


THE   TOCSIN   OF   PARIS.  283 

offered  to  convey  M.  de  Narbonne  in  disguise,  and  under  an 
assumed  name,  to  England. 

She  heaved  a  deep  sigh  of  relief  when  she  had  been  freed 
from  this  anxiety,  and  still  more  so  when  she  learned  that  both 
of  them  had  safely  reached  the  frontier. 

She  felt  now,  that  she  herself  must  no  longer  try  to  brave 
the  storm.  So  she  applied  for  a  passport  to  Switzerland ;  but, 
«ven  after  she  had  received  it,  she  could  not  yet  make  up  her 
mind  to  fix  the  day  when  she  was  to  bid  farewell  to  so  many 
friends  whom  she  was  loth  to  leave  amidst  so  many  dangers. 

Victims  fell  daily  now,  and  daily  grew  the  list  ot  the  names 
of  those  over  whom  the  sword  was  suspended.  The  prisons 
were  crowded  with  sufferers,  and  Madame  de  Stael  sought  to 
save  whomsoever  she  could.  No  hour  was  too  early  for  her, 
no  walk  too  long,  to  serve  those  who  had  need  of  her  aid.  She 
had  just  succeeded  in  saving  the  life  of  a  worthy  man,  M.  de 
Jancourt,  by  interceding  with  Manuel  in  his  behalf,  and  this 
noble  deed  was  to  close  her  career  in  Paris.  On  the  following 
morning  she  intended  to  leave  the  capital,  and  the  Abbe  Mon- 
tesquieu, disguised  as  a  servant,  was  to  escape  with  her  to 
Switzerland ;  they  were  to  meet  at  a  certain  point  in  the  sub- 
urbs. 

At  this  juncture  the  Parisians  heard  that  Longwy  and 
Verdun  had  been  taken,  and  there  was  rung  again  that  tocsin 
whose  sounds  again  struck  terror  into  her  heart,  and  all  Paris 
was  again  in  commotion.  Madame  de  Stael  persisted,  never- 
theless, in  her  intention  to  set  out  for  Switzerland.  Al- 
though she  could  as  yet  be  safer  at  her  house  than  on  the 
road,  the  Abbe's  life  would  be  endangered  in  case  she  should 
not  meet  him  at  the  appointed  place,  and  this  consideration 
induced  her  to  start.  In  order  to  show  distinctly  that  she  was 
the  wife  of  a  foreign  embassador,  she  ordered  a  berlin  drawn 


284  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

by  six  horses,  and  told  her  servants  to  don  their  gala  liveries. 
This  proved  to  be  a  serious  blunder.  In  driving  in  this  osten- 
tatious manner  through  the  streets,  she  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  multitude,  and  a  number  of  furious  women  were  not 
long  in  shouting  that  the  carriage  which  they  said  contained 
the  treasures  of  the  nation  should  be  stopped.  Excited  men 
surrounded  the  carriage,  dragged  the  postillions  from  the  box, 
and  ordered  Madame  de  Stael  to  repair  to  the  office  of  the  dis- 
trict authorities. 

She  patiently  obeyed  their  order. 

She  was  charged  with  helping  persons  sentenced  to  death  to 
escape  from  the  country ;  and  her  passport,  too,  it  was  said, 
was  not  in  good  order.  It  is  true,  one  of  her  servants  who 
was  mentioned  in  it  was  absent ;  she  had  secretly  dispatched 
him  to  inform  the  Abbe  of  what  had  occurred.  In  conse- 
quence of  this  irregularity,  she  was  to  be  sent  to  the  Hotel  de 
Ville,  and  subjected  there  to  a  formal  examination. 

To  reach  the  Hotel  de  Ville  she  had  to  cross  one-half  of 
the  capital ;  nothing  could  be  more  dreadful  to  the  poor  lady, 
whom  it  took  three  hours  of  mortal  anguish  to  perform  that 
distance.  She  implored  the  gensd'armes  who  surrounded  her, 
to  have  mercy  on  her,  and  bear  in  mind  that  she  was  pregnant, 
and  that  the  upsetting  of  the  carriage  might  be  fatal  to  her. 
She  met  with  no  response,  but  threats  and  disdain. 

The  danger  became  more  imminent  by  the  time  she  reached 
the  Place  de  Gr&ve.  Surrounded  by  men  bearing  pikes,  she 
walked  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  When  she  reached  the  hall  of 
sessions,  she  felt  comparatively  safe.  She  had  escaped  from 
the  furious  multitude,  and  stood  now  before  a  Robespierre. 
The  hall  was  crowded ;  men,  women,  and  children  shouted, 
"  Vive  la  nation  !  " 

Madame  de  Stael  did  not  admire  these  voices  any  longer 


THE   TOCSIN   OF   PARIS.  285 

A  chair  was  offered  to  her.  She  took  it  and  tried  to  compose 
herself.  At  this  moment  her  eyes  fell  on  the  Embassador  of 
Parma,  who  had  been  arrested  like  her ;  and,  finding  that  she 
had  recognized  him,  he  rose  and  declared  that  he  did  not  know 
"  that  woman,"  and  that  he  took  no  interest  in  her  fate.  In- 
dignant at  his  miserable  cowardice,  she  rose  to  defend  herself. 
Fortunately,  Manuel  arrived  at  this  moment.  Surprised  to  see 
her  in  this  condition,  he  stepped  forward  and  became  her 
bondsman;  he  then  took  her  and  her  maid  to  his  private 
office,  where  he  locked  them  up. 

He  left  them  there  for  six  long  hours.  Meanwhile  they 
looked  down  on  the  Place  de  Greve,  where  the  bare-armed  and 
blood-stained  assassins  rent  the  air  with  horrible  shouts. 

It  was  not  until  after  nightfall  that  Manuel  dared  to  take 
her  back  to  her  house.  The  street-lamps  not  having  been 
lighted,  no  one  was  able  to  recognize  her.  A  new  passport 
was  given  her,  and,  escorted  by  a  gensd'armes,  she  left  next 
morning  Paris  and  France. 


BOOK   III. 


CHAPTER  L 

MADAME  DE   STAEL  AT  COPPET. 

MADAME  JXECKER,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  her  husband,  was 
slowly  walking  up  and  down  under  the  tall  elms  which  lined 
both  sides  of  the  road  leading  to  Coppet. 

The  setting  sun  shed  its  last  rays  on  the  earth,  and  bathed 
the  snow-clad  summits  of  the  Alps  in  a  flood  of  purple  light ; 
while  the  lower  landscape,  already  half  enshrouded  in  the 
evening  mist,  vanished  more  and  more  from  their  view. 

A  low  sigh  escaped  the  lips  of  the  ex-Minister.  His  thoughts 
had  wandered  far  away,  while  his  eyes  gazed  dreamily  upon 
the  magnificent  scenery.  He  thought  of  his  child.  Here 
reigned  peace;  in  this  happy  solitude,  everything  breathed 
the  most  profound  tranquillity ;  but  where  she  lived,  the  tocsin 
incited  the  multitude,  perhaps  at  this  very  moment,  to  arson 
and  murder. 

For  several  days  past  he  had  received  no  letters  from  her. 
The  cause  of  this  silence  was  perhaps  the  fact  that  she  had 
already  left  Paris,  or  that  fresh  disorders  had  detained  the 
mails  and  carriers.  He  would  have  gladly  believed  the  former 
supposition  to  be  true.  To  have  her  with  him,  and  under  his 
protection,  would  have  greatly  reassured  him ;  still,  he  did 


238  MADAME    DE    STA.EL. 

not  wish  to  persuade  her  to  leave  a  city  to  which  she  was  so 
much  attached,  while  the  quiet  life  in  the  country  could  not 
but  be  exceedingly  injurious  to  her  vivacious  and  ardent  spirit. 
The  growing  danger,  however,  had  convinced  Madame  de 
Stael  herself  that  it  was  time  for  her  to  leave  the  scene  of  so 
many  horrors.  Her  husband  was  absent ;  she  was  looking  for- 
ward to  her  speedy  confinement — reasons  enough  §)r  her  to 
long  for  a  safer  place  of  abode. 

Hitherto,  no  women  had  yet  fallen  victims  to  the  Revolu- 
tion ;  but  no  one  could  tell  how  long  the  fair  sex  would  be 
spared ;  and  the  imprudence  which  characterized  every  step  of 
Necker's,  could  not  but  expose  her  to  incessant  danger. 

While  such  and  similar  thoughts  arose  in  the  mind  of  the 
ex-Minister,  his  eyes  descried,  at  the  distant  end  of  the  alley, 
a  traveling-coach,  approaching  in  the  direction  of  the  villa. 
His  eyes  became  radiant  with  joy,  as  he  stood  still,  and  called 
his  wife's  attention  to  what  he  had  seen. 

Madame  Necker  trembled  at  this  discovery.  She  faintly 
leaned  her  pale  head  on  her  husband's  shoulder,  while  she 
pressed  her  right  hand  to  her  heart. 

Her  growing  weakness  rendered  her  sensible  to  the  slight- 
est emotion  of  her  heart ;  and  With  the  thought  that  she  would 
presently  embrace  her  daughter,  there  mingled  now  the  fore- 
boding that  her  end  was  drawing  nigh.  Although  Germaine 
had  never  occupied  the  first  place  in  her  heart,  she  was  her 
mother ;  and  at  the  moment  when  she  thought  of  a  final  sepa- 
ration, all  jealousies  gave  way,  and  the  heart  alone  warmly 
spoke  the  language  of  the  purest  affection  that  exists  on  earth 
— the  love  between  parents  and  children. 

The  post-horn  now  sounded  a  merry  tune,  a  head  emerged 
from  the  traveling-coach,  a  loud  "  Halt ! "  was  heard,  and, 
a  minute  afterward,  Madame  de  Stael,  sobbing,  was  folded  to 


MADAME    I)E    STAEL   AT   COPPET.  289 

ner  father's  heart  As  her  grief,  so  her  happiness  always 
manifested  itself  in  the  most  vivid  manner. 

In  front  of  the  door  of  the  villa,  there  played  her  little  boy, 
who  had  almost  forgotten  his  mother,  as  children  of  his  age 
are  apt  to  do.  But  her  loving  words  were  not  long  in  reviv- 
ing in  his  memory  the  sound  of  a  voice  than  which  none  can 
appeal  more  powerfully  to  a  child's  heart 

The  joy  of  meeting  her  family  again  made  an  almost  over- 
whelming impression  on  a  woman  whose  emotions  were  so 
vivid,  and  whose  affections  were  so  ardent  The  expression 
of  happiness  which  she  read  in  her  father's  face,  added  greatly 
to  her  joy ;  she  kissed  his  eyes,  his  hands,  and  caused  him 
to  feel  that  ambition,  fame,  and  the  passions  of  this  world, 
were  as  nothing  compared  with  the  love  which  she  felt  for 
him. 

Madame  Necker  had  withdrawn,  and  did  not  return  until  she 
had  rested  for  several  hours ;  she  then  remained  for  a  few  mo- 
ments with  her  husband  and  daughter,  whose  vivacity  she  was 
unable  to  bear. 

Madame  de  Stael  had,  meanwhile,  related  to  her  father  the 
events  which  had  taken  place  in  Paris,  and  depicted  to  him  the 
scenes  of  the  September  days,  in  words  as  graphic  and  impres- 
sive as  a  painter's  pencil.  Necker  shook  his  head  mournfully 
as  she  unrolled  those  horrors  before  him. 

He  was  beyond  measure  astonished  to  hear  that  Narbonne 
and  Montmorency  had  been  saved,  and  he  asked  himself 
whether  they  had  escaped  in  consequence  of  Gazette's  prophecy, 
or  if  that  gloomy  visionary  had  really  been  able  to  penetrate 
the  veil  of  the  future.  Although  he  had  kept  up  a  regular 
correspondence  with  his  daughter,  there  still  remained  for  her 
so  much  to  add,  and  for  him  so  much  to  ask,  so  many  lives  had 
suddenly  taken  such  a  strange  turn,  that  the  first  days  passed 
12 


200  MADAME    I)E    STAEL. 

mostly  on  his  part  in  questions,  which  his  daughter  took  pains 
to  answer  as  explicitly  as  possible. 

.  Madame  de  Stael  had  left  Paris  in  the  utmost  agitation,  and 
the  news  which  she  received  thence  since  her  departure,  the 
melancholy  and  precarious  condition  of  her  best  friends,  kept 
her  constantly  in  a  state  of  painful  uneasiness. 

A  protracted  indisposition,  and  the  birth  of  her  child  shortly 
after,  contributed  greatly  toward  soothing  the  tempest  in  her 
heart,  and  conjured  up  in  her  breast  a  certain  resignation  which, 
following  as  it  did  in  the  wake  of  her  prolonged  feverish  agita- 
tion, at  times  almost  frightened  her. 

Time  wore  on.  Winter  had  come,  and  snow  covered  the 
flanks  of  the  mountains.  She  gazed  sadly  on  the  cold  land- 
scape that  fell  on  her  heart  with  icy  coldness,  and  filled  her 
mind  with  that  ennui  which  caused  her  wings  to  droop. 

Her  hopes  in  regard  to  France  were  blasted  ;  tears  streamed 
from  her  eyes  whenever  she  called  to  mind  what  she  had  ex- 
pected, and  what  she  had  lost.  That  constitution  for  which  she 
had  longed  so  ardently,  what  had  become  of  it?  Her  friends 
whose  fame  she  had  shared,  were  reduced  to  want  and  misery  ; 
Paris,  the  pearl  and  ideal  of  all  cities,  was  bleeding  under 
Robespierre.  The  cause  of  liberty  had  become  a  cause  of 
terror. 

"  What  remains  to  me  now  ?  what  am  I  to  do  with  my  life  ?  " 
she  secretly  asked  herself;  and  she  felt  deeply  and  painfully 
how  lonely  her  life  was,  after  all,  inasmuch  as  the  sound  foun- 
dation of  domestic  happiness  was  wanting  to  it  Profound 
melancholy  seized  her. 

Xccker  urged  her  to  form  a  social  circle;  but  all  acquain- 
tances which  she  formed  here  added  to  her  despondency.  In 
Geneva  lived  Madame  Rillet,  nee  Huber,  who  had  formerly 
been  her  companion  at  St.  Ouen ;  since  that  time  circumstances 


MADAME   DE   STAEL   AT   COPPET.  291 

had  separated  them  still  further,  and  everybody  knows  how 
painful  it  is  to  meet  old  acquaintances  with  whom  we  have  no 
longer  any  sympathies  in  common.  She  had  been  estranged 
from  female  life  in  its  usual  relations ;  she  never  sympathized 
very  ardently  with  the  interests  to  which  it  is  devoted.  Accus- 
tomed as  she  was  to  pay  homage  to  the  mind,  and  to  follow 
with  ardent  enthusiasm  whatsoever  it  creates,  she  contemplated 
with  a  sad  air  the  petty  cares  and  troubles  which  engrossed 
the  attention  of  other  women  as  wives  and  mothers. 

Moreover,  the  hypocrisy  to  which  her  sex  stooped,  the  insin- 
cerity with  which  women  concealed  their  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings, were  exceedingly  distasteful  to  her.  She  was  at  a  loss  to 
understand  how  any  one  could  be  ashamed  of  his  feelings. 
She  appreciated  only  such  words  as  were  the  immediate 
expression  of  the  heart ;  she  treated  men  in  social  intercourse 
as  if  they  were  women,  and  charmed  them  by  her  candor  and 
honest  straightforwardness.  The  women,  on  their  part,  took 
umbrage  at  her  unusual  conduct,  which  they  censured  as  want- 
ing in  good  breeding. 

Madame  de  Stael  saw  that  she  was  not  appreciated,  and  this 
discovery  saddened  her  heart,  for  she  wished  to  be  loved,  and 
she  was  well  aware  that  she  was  unable  to  bring  about  a  change 
for  the  better.  "  ffest  ma  nature  ainsi"  she  said,  and  it  was 
beyond  her  power  to  transform  it.  She  remained  truthful  to 
indiscretion,  and  concealed  neither  what  moved  herself  nor 
what  grieved  or  gladdened  others. 

During  the  last  six  years  she  had  not  written  anything,  the 
political  events  having  completely  overshadowed  all  literary 
interests ;  and  whenever  she  was  able  to  use  the  living  word 
for  communicating  her  thoughts,  she  abstained  from  writing. 
Now,  in  her  solitude,  she  took  up  her  pen  again. 

An  active  and  animated  correspondence  with  her  friends  in 


292  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

demnifled  her,  in  the  first  place,  for  her  separation  from  them. 
Narbonne  remained  in  London,  and  took  pains  to  defend  the 
interests  of  France  at  the  British  capital.  Though  he  was  pool 
and  proscribed,  the  most  aristocratic  and  influential  circles 
opened  to  him ;  Fox  and  Grey,  Erskine  and  Granville  invited 
him  often  to  dinner;  and  Madame  de  Stael  tried  now  from  afar, 
as  she  formerly  had  done  in  Paris,  to  exercise  her  influence 
over  him  and  guide  his  steps. 

The  condemnation  of  the  unfortunate  King  of  France 
caused  her  the  most  profound  grief,  and  she  consulted  inces- 
santly with  her  friends  as  to  the  means  by  which  he  might  be 
saved.  Narbonne  had  offered  to  go  under  a  safeguard  to  Paris 
and  defend  the  King;  when  his  offer  was  rejected,  he  never- 
theless wrote  a  justification  of  Louis  the  Sixteenth,  and  had  it 
published. 

Madame  de  Stael,  animated  by  the  same  spirit,  wrote  a  de- 
fense of  Queen  Marie  Antoinette,  and  issued  it,  anonymously. 
Everybody  divined  the  name  of  the  authoress,  although  it  was 
not  on  the  title-page,  and  admired  the  heart  from  which  such 
words  emanated  to  justify  a  princess  who  had  treated  her  so 
unjustly  and  offensively.  It  is  difficult  to  overcome  our 
wounded  vanity.  But  Madame  de  Stael  was  in  this  respect, 
too,  the  most  kind-hearted  creature  on  earth ;  she  never  re- 
sented an  insult ;  she  never  revenged  herself  upon  a  person 
in  adversity  for  having  mortified  her  in  the  days  of  his  prosper- 
ity. The  sufferings  of  the  unfortunate  appealed  irresistibly  to 
her  heart,  and  silenced  any  other  feelings  in  her  breast. 

As  Narbonne's  justification  was  unable  to  save  the  King,  so 
Madame  de  Stael  did  not  succeed  by  her  pamphlet  in  bringing 
about  the  acquittal  of  Marie  Antoinette,  and  both  of  them  had 
to  bleed  on  the  scaffold.  When  the  news  of  their  execution 
reached  Coppet,  the  Necker  family  mourned  for  them  as  deeply 


MADAME    DE    STAEL   AT    COPPET.  293 

and  sincerely,  as  if  the  most  beloved  relatives  had  been  taken 
from  them. 

As  soon  as  Madame  de  Stael's  health  permitted  her  to  travel 
again,  she  made  in  the  spring  of  1793  a  trip  to  England,  and 
tried  to  bring  her  influence  to  bear  on  Pitt  and  Fox ;  but  her 
self-imposed  mission  was  unsuccessful. 

Her  maternal  duties  called  her  back  to  Coppet.  By  this 
time  a  great  many  exiles  had  arrived  in  Switzerland,  and  their 
frequent  visits  rendered  her  life  less  monotonous  and  lonely 
than  heretofore.  Still  the  tone  of  these  visitors  was  anything 
but  cheering.  The  days  of  hopefulness  and  joy  were  gone ;  all 
looked  forward  to  the  future  with  the  gloomiest  forebodings ; 
and  even  the  thought  of  the  ultimate  triumph  of  liberty  had 
lost  its  charm,  since  the  road  to  it  had  been  drenched  in  blood. 

There  was  no  gayety  even  in  the  circles  of  the  most  intimate 
friends,  and  no  one  was  courageous  enough  to  begin  a  sprightly 
and  witty  conversation.  The  Phrygian  cap,  and  the  cockade, 
had  driven  away  the  esprit  of  the  French. 

M.  de  Narbonne  had  to  leave  England  again,  and  seek  an 
asylum  in  Switzerland.  "Want  and  privations  dogged  his  steps, 
and  he  wandered  about  in  deep  despondency.  The  favorite  of 
fortune  could  not  accustom  himself  so  easily  to  the  whims  of 
fate,  and  it  was  not  until  he  met  the  young  Duke  of  Chartres, 
and  saw  at  Lucerne  how  bravely  the  Prince  entered  upon  his 
position  as  schoolmaster,  that  he  took  heart  and,  like  him,  re- 
solved to  look  adversity  courageously  in  the  face. 

Mathieu  de  Montmorency,  too,  arrived  at  Coppet,  and  re- 
mained with  Madame  de  Stael  until  he  received  from  Paris  the 
intelligence  that  his  only  brother  had  been  sentenced  to  death. 
He  hastened  thither  in  order  to  save  him,  but  he  came  too 
late. 

Inasmuch  as  everybody  trembled  for  his  own  life,  or  for  that 


294  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

of  his  friends,  nobody  was  able  to  console  others,  and,  least  of 
all,  could  this  be  expected  of  Madame  de  Stael,  whom  grief 
prostrated  so  easily,  and  who  had  tears  only  to  weep  over  an 
inflexible  fate,  but  was  unable  to  brave  it. 

Necker  vainly  tried  to  comfort  her,  and  encourage  her  by 
his  example  to  submit  patiently  to  what  could  not  be  helped. 
Life  was  dead  and  void  for  her  when  she  had  no  desires  and 
hopes  to  connect  with  her  future.  Even  fame  had  lost  its 
charms,  if  it  was  not  to  adorn  her  forehead  in  France.  She 
was  like  an  actor  who  is  to  play  before  an  array  of  empty 
benches ;  the  right  kind  of  spur  was  wanting  to  her,  and  even 
her  eloquent  words  died  away  on  her  lips  because  she  had  no 
listeners  with  whom  she  cared  to  converse. 

She  received  Narbonne  with  a  mournful  smile  at  Coppet. 
He  had  been  to  her  a  brilliant  star,  whose  rise  she  had  watched 
•\s~ith  enraptured  eyes,  and  whose  setting  now  filled  her  soul 
with  quiet  grief.  She  had  not  faith  enough  to  exclaim  at 
every  failure,  "  What  has  happened  was  inevitable,"  and  so 
there  mingled  with  her  grief  the  self-reproach  that  many  a  step 
would  have  been  more  successful  if  she  had  guided  her  friend 
with  more  judicious  advice. 

Her  defense  of  the  Queen  had  appeared  anonymously ;  in  the 
same  manner  she  now  published  a  number  of  papers  on  the 
peace  question,  on  which  even  Fox,  to  whom  Narbonne  sent 
them  publicly,  bestowed  the  most  flattering  encomiums.* 

These  *vorks  occupied  her,  but  they  did  not  engross  her 
heart.  Sue  had  long  since  perceived  that  her  life  in  a  certain 
respect  was  a  failure,  owing  to  her  thirst  for  fame  and  distinc- 
tion, which  did  not  indemnify  her  for  the  lack  of  that  quiet 
happiness  which  a  woman  is  to  find  in  the  bosom  of  her  family 
Whenever  she  glanced  at  her  mother,  she  heaved  a  piirh.  for 
*  Villemain. 


MADAME    DE    STAEL   AT    COPPET.  295 

she  could  never  hope  to  love  and  be  loved  as  Madame  Necker 
loved  her  husband,  and  was  loved  by  him.  Even  her  children 
did  not  afford  her  the  joy  felt  by  a  mother  who  seeks  in  these 
precious  pledges  a  resemblance  to  her  beloved  husband,  and 
presses  them  with  redoubled  tenderness  to  her  heart  be- 
cause they  belong  to  him.  She  could  never  i'eel,  never  hope 
for,  the  proud  satisfaction  of  enjoying  this  sweet  and  quiet 
happiness. 

Madame  Necker's  disease,  meanwhile,  grew  more  and  more 
alarming,  and  the  physicians  finally  declared  that  there  was 
little  or  no  hope  of  her  recovery.  Sustained  as  she  was  by  her 
firm  religious  faith,  she  courageously  looked  forward  to  her 
death,  and  closed  her  eyes  with  a  serene  air. 

This  quiet  sick-bed,  this  gentle  death,  affected  Madame  de  Stael 
most  injuriously,  unable  as  she  was  to  lock  any  of  her  emotions 
in  her  breast,  and  to  fight  out  any  heart-struggles  within  her- 
self. Grief  to  which  she  was  not  allowed  to  give  vent,  made 
her  sick. 

Necker  was  deeply  afflicted  at  the  loss  of  a  wife  whom  he 
had  esteemed  so  highly  and  loved  so  dearly ;  and  he  mourned  for 
her  long  and  profoundly.  Madame  de  Stael  wished  sincerely 
to  indemnify  him  for  this  loss,  and  to  cling  to  him  with  re- 
doubled tenderness ;  but  at  the  same  time  she  saw  that  it 
was  impossible  for  her  to  pursue  the  same  course  as  her 
mother,  and  it  was  not  until  now  that  she  recognized  her  high 
worth.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  Paris ;  her  thoughts  were  at 
the  French  capital  while  she  was  walking  at  her  father's  side, 
and  she  looked  forward  to  every  coming  day  in  the  anxious 
hope  that  something— she  did  not  know  herself  exactly  what 
she  longed  for — might  turn  up. 

M.  de  Stael  had  been  appointed  again  Embassrulor  to  Paris. 
He  arrived  there  two  mouths  after  the  deatli  of  Louis  the  Six- 


29G  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

teentli ;  he  was  the  only  foreign  embassador  that  set  foot  on 
French  soil  during  the  Keign  of  Terror. 

In  order  to  add  to  his  personal  safety,  he  distributed  on  the 
day  of  his  arrival  the  sum  of  three  thousand  francs  among  the 
poor  of  the  district ;  nevertheless,  he  considered  his  life  en- 
dangered ;  and  much  as  he  desired  to  prolong  his  sojourn  in 
Paris  and  call  Madame  de  Stael  to  his  side,  after  a  few  weeks 
time  he  hastily  turned  his  back  on  France.  It  was  not 
until  after  Robespierre's  overthrow  that  he  ventured  to  return 
to  his  post. 


CHAPTER  II. 

BENJAMIN  CONSTANT  DE  REBECQTJE. 

FBERE  was  no  place  in  Switzerland  where  the  French  exilea 
met  with  a  less  friendly  reception  than  in  the  small  town  of 
Lausanne.  The  young  men  of  Lausanne  were  such  ardent 
adherents  cf  republican  liberty  that  they  not  only  rejected  all 
moderate  ideas,  but  furnished  the  representatives  of  such 
views  with  public  marks  of  disrespect. 

In  the  autumn  of  the  year  1794,  Benjamin  Constant  de  Re- 
becque  returned  to  Lausanne,  his  birth-place,  in  order  to  visit 
his  relatives.  His  father,  a  general  in  the  Dutch  service,  had 
died  at  Dole.  Young  Rebecque  had  been  educated  abroad, 
heard  lectures  at  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  studied  then 
at  GSttingen  and  Erlangen,  imbibed  the  principles  of  Kant's 
philosophy,  and  acquired  a  vast  store  of  knowledge.  His 
family  had  escaped  from  France  after  the  promulgation  of 
the  Edict  of  Nantes;  he  had  grown  up  as  a  Calvinist,  and, 
although  a  native  of  Switzerland,  remained  at  heart  a  French- 
man. He  returned  now  from  the  petty  cqurt  of  Brunswick, 
where  the  Duchess,  whose  special  favorite  he  was,  had  ap- 
pointed him  chamberlain  a  year  ago. 

Although  he  was  only  twenty-seven  years  old,  he  had  in 
many  respects  arrived  at  hia  full  maturity.  His  tall,  slender 
form,  the  enthusiastic  glance  of  his  large  blue  eyes,  which  were 
constantly  turned  to  heaven,  made  his  appearance  no  less 
striking  than  prepossessing.  His  blonde  hair,  which  he  wore 
13* 


298  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

very  long,  after  the  fashion  of  the  German  students,  imparted 
to  him  at  the  same  time  the  naive  air  of  a  youth  who  has  just 
entered  into  life,  and  thinks  that  some  fresh  pleasure  is  in 
store  for  him  behind  every  mountain. 

Easily  carried  away  by  his  impressions,  he  had  already  at 
an  early  age  put  upon  his  heart  fetters  which  he  was  not  cou- 
rageous enough  to  break.  At  a  later  time,  when  he  formed  the 
acquaintance  of  the  Hardenberg  family  at  the  court  of  Bruns- 
wick, the  niece  of  the  prince  charmed  his  impressive  heart ; 
and  as  his  love  was  returned,  he  built  the  boldest  plans  on 
the  future,  and  secretly  promised  to  marry  the  beautiful  young 
lady,  who  had  been  brought  up  in  the  most  brilliant  circum- 
stances. He  took  this  imprudent  step  without  considering 
how  difficult  it  would  be  for  him  to  redeem  his  promise. 

She  did  not  suspect  what  chains  he  bore  already,  and  hoped 
in  his  and  her  good  star. 

No  sooner  had  Constant  de  Rebecque  set  foot  on  his  native 
soil,  than  he  heard  from  all  lips  the  names  of  the  illustrious 
Necker  and  of  his  no  less  celebrated  daughter ;  and  the  ambi- 
tious young  man  naturally  desired  to  get  acquainted  with  these 
distinguished  personages.  The  kindness  of  Madame  Necker 
de  Saussure,  Madame  de  Stael's  cousin,  enabled  him  soon  after 
to  attain  his  object.  On  a  beautiful  September  morning  he 
put  his  letter  of  introduction  into  his  pocket  and  set  out  for 
Coppet. 

Necker  happened  to  be  in  his  study,  where  he  read  and 
wrote  all  day  long,  and  refused  to  bo  disturbed.  When  the 
visitor  was  announced  to  Madame  de  Stael,  she  was  standing 
sadly  at  the  window  and  gazing  into  vacancy.  It  was  the 
longing  of  her  heart  that  caused  her  eyes  to  wander  far  away. 

Narbonne  had  just  left  her.  He  had  been  the  bearer  of  bad 
tidings,  which  his  own  discouragement  had  rendered  still 


BEJUAMIJT    COXSTAKT   DE    REBECQUE.  299 

gloomier.  At  the  same  time  she  had  perceived  how  little  he 
valued  her  friendship  since  wealth  and  position  were  wanting 
to  him.  "  Oh,  these  men ! "  she  said,  shaking  her  head,  after 
he  was  gone.  "  Instead  of  being  props  to  us  women,  it  is  we 
that  must  support  them.  They  accept  our  services  as  though 
it  were  our  principal  destination  to  promote  their  interests ;  and 
they  forget  that,  with  all  our  seeming  disinterestedness,  we  feel 
at  the  bottom  of  our  hearts  the  longing  to  be  rewarded  for  our 
services  with  a  little  love  and  tenderness.  Poor  sex !  The 
vulnerable  side  turns  up  everywhere." 

Her  large,  lustrous  eyes,  half  veiled  under  her  long  lashes, 
and  an  expression  of  profound  melancholy  stamped  on  her 
features,  she  went  to  meet  the  young  stranger,  and  bade  him 
welcome. 

He  stood  before  her  in  surprise.  He  had  thought  that  the 
appearance  of  the  author  of  the  letters  on  Rousseau  was 
widely  different  from  what  he  found  her  to  be. 

"  You  come  from  Germany,"  she  said  to  him  in  her  deep,  so- 
norous voice.  "  You  have  drawn  your  intellectual  food  from 
the  fountain  of  German  philosophy,  but  at  the  same  time 
learned  to  pay  homage  to  monarchial  principles.  They  know 
there  but  very  little  of  the  writings  of  our  Rousseau,  and  the 
chapter  of  the  '  Rights  of  Man '  is  still  a  closed  book  for  those 
dreamers.  So  my  grief  will  be  inexplicable  to  you.  I  have 
no  hopes  of  happiness  but  such  as  are  connected  with  the  lib- 
erty of  France,  with  a  representative  constitution,  and  the  rec- 
ognition of  the  droiis  de  Vhomme.  The  tocsin  of  Paris  has 
tolled  the  death-knell  of  all  my  wishes." 

So  saying,  she  paced  the  room  in  great  agitation. 

Constant  followed  her,  meanwhile,  with  his  clear  eyes,  and 
sought  to  penetrate  the  singular  being  of  the  gifted  lady. 

"We  were  by  no  means  indifferent  lookers-on,  while  sucb 


300  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

stirring  events  occurred  in  France,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  I  my- 
self take  the  liveliest  interest  in  all  that  is  going  on  there  ;  for 
I  look  upon  France  as  my  own  country,  and  am  at  heart  a 
Frenchman.  And  I  say,  even  to-day,  '  Thank  God,  I  am  a 
Frenchman.'  The  petty  German  States  could  not  win  my 
sympathies,  inasmuch  as  I  found  everything  there  too  insig- 
nificant and  narrow-minded.  To  entertain  great  ideas  and 
noble  feelings,  one  must  belong  to  a  great  nation,  and  play  a 
part  in  the  arena  of  humanity." 

"  And  that  you  can  do  only  in  France,"  she  said,  standing 
still  before  him,  and  looking  him  full  in  the  face  with  her  radi- 
ant eyes.  He  dropped  his  eyes  before  the  wondrous  luster  of 
these  stars.  "  In  France  as  it  was,  but  not  as  it  is.  I  wish 
you  had  known  it  in  its  glory,  in  its  greatness ;  I  wish  you 
had  witnessed  the  majestic  rising  of  a  people  determined  to 
throw  off  its  yoke,  and  to  break  with  the  traditions  of  the 
past,  in  order  to  rise  to  a  new  and  nobler  greatness.  Ah,  that 
time  will  never  come  back.  I  wish  you  had  seen  the  suspense 
pervading  all  classes  of  society,  and  how  every  one  wished  to 
co-operate  in  the  great  work,  and  thought  he  existed  only  for 
the  welfare  of  the  whole  nation.  And  now,  and  now !  to  what 
extremes  has  too  much  resistance  driven  this  poor  people ! " 

"  It  is  a  transition,"  replied  Constant  de  Rebecque,  rising 
likewise.  "  Histoiy  never  advances  in  a  straight  line ;  we 
overstep  the  right  measure,  now  on  one  side,  and  now  on  the 
other ;  and  we  learn  only  by  our  excesses  when  we  should 
have  pursued  a  course  of  moderation." 

"  You  speak  like  a  philosopher,"  replied  Madame  de  Stael, 
eyeing  him  with  growing  interest.  "  The  right  measure  is 
reason ;  and  what  you  call  excesses,  passion.  I  have  grown 
up  in  a  school  which  granted  to  the  latter  a  power,  the  fruits 
of  which  were  reaped  under  Robespierre.  You  have  been 


BENJAMIN   CONSTANT  DE   KEBECQUE.  301 

brought  up  in  a  country  where  the  "  Critique  of  Pure  Eeason  " 
founded  its  systems.  So  both  of  us  have  started  from  opposite 
points ;  and  yet  I  wager,  M.  de  Rebecque,  that,  no  matter  what 
theory  may  have  taught  us,  we  shall  practically  meet  in  the 
same  path.  Forbidden  fruits  are  always  so  sweet ! " 

"And  yet  they  leave  such  a  bitter  pang  behind.  It  is  so 
beautiful  to  love  virtue  and  hate  vice ;  it  is  so  beautiful  to  ar- 
dently admire  all  that  is  great  and  noble,  and  it  is  still  more 
beautiful  to  believe  in  a  demi-god.  You  do  not  know  how 
magnificently  we  are  dreaming  in  Germany.  There  is  in  Ger- 
many an  ideal  world  for  which  we  gladly  risk  the  very  ground 
under  our  feet.  To  think  is  there  the  first  duty  of  man.  Oh, 
you  must  get  acquainted  with  Germany.  The  very  contrast  be- 
tween that  country  and  France  will  make  it  interesting  to  you." 

She  sighed  deeply. 

"  How  I  envy  you  for  being  able  to  feel  so  warmly,"  she  said, 
mournfully.  "  Although  I  am  still  young,  I  have  suffered  a 
great  deal,  and  met  with  many  disappointments.  There  is  but 
one  thing  that  remains  to  me :  an  everlasting  unsatisfied  long- 
ing for  some  unspeakable  happiness.  Whenever  I  thought  it 
within  my  reach  and  stretched  out  my  hand  for  it,  it  escaped 
from  me.  Now  I  do  not  hope  for  it  any  more ;  there  is  a  deep 
gloom  in  my  breast ;  my  illusions  have  vanished ;  my  life  seems 
aimless,  and  my  heart  is  so  poor,  oh,  so  poor!"  Her  eyes 
filled  with  tears  as  she  said  so. 

Constant  rose  in  deep  emotion  and  seized  her  hand ;  she  gave 
it  to  him  willingly,  and  allowed  it  to  rest  in  his. 

"  Your  tears  show  how  rich  your  heart  still  is,"  he  said,  feel- 
ingly. "  How  deep  and  pure  its  feelings  must  be,  when  it  is 
able  to  weep  such  pearls  after  past  and  lost  happiness." 

A  sunbeam  from  her  eyes  was  her  response.  He  wanted  to 
withdraw  his  hand  in  confusion,  but  she  held  it  and  said  naively : 


302  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

"To  get  acquainted  with  orte  another,  we  might  need  an 
hour  01  ten  years.*  I  believe  I  understand  you,  and  it  is  iny 
habit  to  say  frankly  and  openly  whether  people  please  or  dis- 
please me.  I  feel  that  you  can  be  a  great  deal  to  me,  inasmuch 
as  you  possess  all  that  is  wanting  to  me — hope,  faith,  and  en- 
thusiasm. Kindle  with  them  once  more  the  dead  spark  in 
my  soul.  Become  my  friend.  Let  us  try  and  see  what  \ve  can 
be  to  one  another." 

Confused,  surprised,  and  flattered,  M.  de  Rebecque  pressed 
to  his  lips  the  beautiful  hand  still  resting  in  his  own,  and 
meanwhile  tried  to  find  words  for  a  repljr.  What  was  he  to 
answer  ?  He  was  a  prey  to  strange  feelings.  The  most  gifted 
lady  of  the  century  offered  her  friendship  to  him,  an  obscure 
young  stranger;  that  was  a  triumph  most  gratifying  to  his 
vanity;  and  yet  something  told  him  that,  in  accepting  her 
offer,  he  added  another  chain  to  the  fetters  which  he  already 
bore,  and  which  would  thereby  be  rendered  still  more  intoler- 
able and  oppressive. 

At  the  dinner-table  he  was  introduced  to  Necker.  The  con- 
versation was  exceedingly  animated,  and  gave  him  an  oppor- 
tunity to  admire  the  genius  of  his  new  friend.  They  talked 
about  the  usual  topics,  the  latest  events  in  France,  the  war  be- 
tween the  allied  powers,  the  condition  of  the  French  exiles, 
and  the  probable  denouement  of  all  these  complications. 

Necker  inquired,  also,  about  the  German  universities,  the 
policy  of  Prussia  and  Austria,  and  the  spirit  and  sympathies 
of  the  youth  in  whose  hands  rested  the  future  of  the  States. 
M.  de  Rebecque  gave  him  satisfactory  information  about  every- 
thing, and  interspersed  his  remarks  with  many  witty  sallies, 
which  delighted  Madame  de  Stael,  and  caused  Necker  to  smile 
approvingly. 

*  Her  own  words. 


BENJAMIN  CONSTANT  DE  KEBECQUE.      303; 

Brilliant  rather  than  profound,  sustained  by  a  sanguine  tem- 
perament, accessible  to  all  impressions,  and  destitute  of  that 
firmness  of  the  soul  which  teaches  us  to  avoid  noxious  influ- 
ences, he  was  a  man  of  the  moment,  catching  with  his  sprightly 
heart  fortune  on  the  wing,  and  never  taking  umbrage  at  its 
fickleness. 

Frank  and  communicative  as  he  was,  he  willingly  disclosed 
the  events  of  his  brief  career.  He  told  them  all  about  his  youth, 
his  studies,  his  life  at  the  English  and  German  universities. 
He  only  passed  over  his  sojourn  at  Brunswick  as  less  important, 
and  adroitly  evaded  all  questions  propounded  to  him  in  regard 
to  it. 

When  Necker's  eyes  happened  to  fall  on  the  small  golden 
ring  on  his  left  hand,  he  became  embarrassed,  and  soon  after 
the  treacherous  ornament  disappeared  from  his  finger. 

Necker  liked  Benjamin  Constant  from  the  very  first,  on  ac- 
count of  his  birth-place  and  religion  ;  and  the  pleasure  which 
the  amiability  of  the  young  man  afforded  him,  added  greatly 
to  the  partiality  which  the  ex-minister  felt  for  him,  so  that 
Necker  was  not  long  in  treating  him  like  an  old  acquaintance. 
So  he  was  not  surprised  to  hear  Madame  de  Stael  say  to  Con- 
stant at  parting,  she  wished  him  to  consider  Coppet  his  home 
during  his  sojourn  in  Switzerland.  She  would  cause  a  room 
to  be  fitted  up  for  him. 

It  is  true,  this  kind  of  hospitality  was  by  no  means  unusual 
at  that  time,  and  it  had  always  been  practiced  with  especial 
liberality  at  Necker' s  house. 

Young  Rebecque  replied  to  these  kind  words  only,  that,  under 
these  circumstances,  he  should  be  loth  to  leave  Switzerland  again. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  replied  Madame  de  Stael,  casting  at 
him  a  glance  which  contained  the  assurance  that  she  would 
gladly  consider  him  her  property. 


304  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

The  stars  had  risen  already  when  the  young  man  reached 
Lausanne. 

He  threw  himself  moodily  on  his  couch,  but  could  not  fall 
asleep.  Whenever  he  shut  his  eyes,  the  gifted  lady  stood  before 
him,  fixed  her  radiant  eyes  on  him,  and  said,  "  Let  us  try  and 
see  what  we  can  be  to  one  another." 

The  idea  of  her  friendship  made  him  dizzy. 

He  thought  of  his  first  love — how  timidly  he  had  ap- 
proached the  very  young  girl,  and  indicated  his  love  for  her  by 
glances  rather  than  words.  He  recalled  the  sweet  happiness 
of  those  days ;  but  alas !  it  seemed  to  him  like  a  childish 
dream.  And  then  appeared  before  him  the  beautiful  and  ele- 
gant lady  whose  acquaintance  he  had  formed  at  Hardenberg's 
house ;  before  her  the  humble  picture  of  his  firsl  love  had  sunk 
into  the  dust;  and  his  passion,  enhanced  by  his  ambition,  had 
stimulated  him  to  win  a  heart  for  which  he  had  to  betray  another. 

And  now  he  was  to  add  to  these  relations,  from  which  he 
had  not  yet  freed  himself,  a  friendship  which  began  too 
warmly  and  affectionately  not  to  lead  to  more  tender  relations. 

But  what  was  he  to  do  ? 

The  courage  of  truth  he  did  not  possess.  He  despised  his 
own  cowardice,  his  head  reproached  him  with  his  discreditable 
conduct,  but  his  heart  sinned  none  the  less.  His  lips  refused 
to  utter  the  word  that  would  mortify  a  woman  dear  to  him, 
and  so  he  sinned  still  more  grievously  against  her. 

He  returned  to  Coppet  on  the  third  day.  Madame  de  Stael 
thought  that  he  tarried  too  long  for  a  friend  who  valued  her 
friendship  as  highly  as  she  wanted  to  be  esteemed.  She  re- 
ceived him  with  a  clouded  brow. 

"  Jamais  je  rtai  ete  aime  comme  faime"  she  said  to  him,  re- 
proachfully. 

Henceforth  he  had  always  to  tell  her  beforehand  the  day 


BENJAMIN"    CONSTANT   DE    KEBECQUE.  305 

and  hour  when  he  would  return,  which  was  to  him  bo;h  new 
and  disagreeable.  He  sighed,  but  did  not  venture  to  disobey 
her  wishes.  She  manifested  so  much  gratification  at  his  visits, 
her  interviews  with  him  were  so  agreeable  to  her,  that  he 
could  not  tell  her  that  he  would  feel  happier  if  she  were  less 
exacting  toward  him. 

Letters  from  Brunswick  called  upon  him  to  return  to  that 
city.  He  responded  to  them  by  lame  excuses,  subterfuges, 
and  promises,  which,  on  the  following  day,  he  was  not 
courageous  enough  to  fulfill.  How  could  he  inform  Madame 
de  Stael  that  he  intended  to  leave  her,  when  she  assured  him 
every  day  that  his  presence  lent  a  new  charm  to  her  life ! 

He  began  to  write  his  work  on  religion,*  to  which  his  con- 
versations with  Necker  and  his  daughter  constantly  stimulated 
him  afresh,  especially  as  the  ex-minister  himself  devoted  con- 
siderable attention  to  this  subject.  At  the  same  time  he  looked 
anxiously  forward  to  the  immediate  future.  He  could  not 
possibly  continue  this  mode  of  life  for  any  length  of  time. 
To  repose  in  this  manner  at  his  age  was  a  crime  against  him- 
self. He  had  to  obtain  a  position  and  secure  his  future.  But, 
whenever  he  alluded  to  this  subject,  Madame  de  Stael  fell  into 
an  agitation  which  rendered  it  impossible  for  him  to  come  to 
an  understanding  with  her ;  and  finally  carried  him  away  to 
the  most  passionate  assurances  that  all  his  other  interests 
should  always  be  secondary  to  the  desire  of  living  as  near  to 
her  as  possible. 

As  soon  as  he  left  her,  this  falsehood  weighed  down  his  soul 
like  an  incubus.  Vexed  and  out  of  humor,  he  determined  to 
tell  her  the  truth  at  his  next  interview  with  her,  but  these  reso- 
lutions always  terminated  in  the  same  discomfiture.  And  thus 
the  winter  of  1795  drew  nigh. 

*  Biographic  Universelle. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   FIRST   EMBA8SADOR   TO   THE   NEW   REPUBLIC. 

IT  was  in  March,  1795,  that  M.  de  Stael  returned  again  as 
Embassador  to  Paris,  the  only  representative  of  a  foreign  power 
authorized  to  recognize  the  new  government. 

The  Directory,  highly  flattered  and  gratified  at  his  appear- 
ance, received  him  with  the  utmost  distinction.  He  was  con- 
ducted to  a  chair  opposite  to  the  President  of  the  Assembly, 
who  received  him  at  his  entrance  with  the  fraternal  kiss,  and 
addressed  him  with  the  republican  "  thou." 

The  affectionate  treatment  which  he  received  at  the  hands  of 
these  men,  most  of  whom  belonged  to  the  lower  classes  of 
society,  seemed  intolerable  to  him.  With  an  air  of  confusiou 
he  suffered  the  embrace  which  was  by  no  means  to  his  taste, 
and  fortunately  did  not  perceive  the  ridiculous  figure  which  he 
cut  among  them. 

He  had  gone  to  Paris  with  the  firm  determination  to  submit 
to  the  exigencies  of  the  times,  in  order  to  be  able  to  live  at  the 
French  capital.  The  sojourn  at  Stockholm  was  no  less  dis- 
tasteful to  him  than  the  limited  income  which  was  at  his  dis- 
posal in  that  city.  He  was  a  spendthrift,  and  addicted  to  luxury. 
Inasmuch  as  he  had  no  fortune  of  his  own,  he  was  unable  to 
gratify  his  expensive  tastes  as  long  as  he  was  separated  from 
his  wife,  and  so  he  longed  intensely  to  return  to  his  post. 

As  soon  as  he  had  reached  Paris,  he  wrote  to  Madame  de 


THE  FIRST  EMBASSADOR  TO  THE  NEW  REPUBLIC.       307 

Stacl,  and  informed  her  that  she  would  now  be  perfectly  safe 
at  their  Parisian  residence.  She  hastened  in  great  agitation 
with  this  letter  to  her  father. 

"  You  cannot  accompany  me,  and  I  shall  not  leave  you  here 
alone,"  she  said. 

"  You  will  do  so,  nevertheless,"  replied  Necker,  with  gentle 
earnestness,  folding  her  to  his  heart.  "  Your  mind  has  need 
of  a  larger  sphere  of  development  than  Coppet  is  able  to  offer 
you.  You  are  destined  for  the  great  world,  and  cannot  adapt 
yourself  to  limited  fields  of  action  and  narrow  horizons.  So 
follow  your  destiny,  my  child.  I  have  arrived  at  an  age 
when  solitude  is  a  blessing,  and  I  shall  enjoy  with  you  from 
afar  all  the  triumphs  which  you  are  certain  to  achieve." 

She  was,  however,  unable  to  make  up  her  mind  immediately. 
She  paced  her  room  in  great  agitation  until  Benjamin  Constant 
arrived. 

Without  a  word  of  preparation  she  handed  him  her  hus- 
band's letter,  and  fixed  her  eyes  steadfastly  on  him  while  he 
read  it. 

"  So  you  will  return  to  Paris,"  he  said;  and  the  thought  that 
he  would  now  regain  his  liberty,  removed  a  heavy  burden 
from  his  heart. 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  to  me  in  regard  to  that  letter  ?  " 
she  asked,  panting  for  breath. 

He  dropped  his  eyes  in  confusion. 

As  she  still  continued  fixing  her  eyes  on  him  inquiringly,  he 
composed  himself  at  last,  and  replied : 

"  That  I  shall  be  grieved  to  part  with  you,  I  need  not  tell 
you  ;  you  know  how  much  I  shall  miss  you  ;  still,  it  is  no  use 
complaining  of  what  is  inevitable." 

"  Inevitable  ! "  she  exclaimed,  curling  her  lips  angrily,  while 
her  increasing  agitation  swelled  her  nostrils.  "  Inevitable  is 


308  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

only  what  fate  imposes  on  us,  and  not  what  we  choose  to  do 
of  our  own  accord.  Both  of  us  are  free  and  enlightened 
enough  to  rise  above  prejudices  and  surmount  obstacles. 
Where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way.  To  the  bold  belongs  the 
world.  He  who  is  able  to  overcome  circumstances  knows  no 
other  law  than  his  own  inclinations.  I  am  only  a  woman ; 
but  my  courage,  I  believe,  surpasses  that  of  many  men." 

M.  de  Rebecque  made  an  evasive  reply.  He  tried  to  allay 
her  anger  by  assuring  her  of  his  fervent  attachment,  and  told 
her  that  his  affairs  had  lone  since  rendered  it  necessary  for 
him  to  go  to  Brunswick,  but  that  his  aversion  to  a  separation 
from  her  had  caused  him  to  postpone  the  journey  again  and 
again ;  now,  however,  he  said,  he  was  glad  that  her  determina- 
tion to  return  to  Paris  put  an  end  to  his  hesitation. 

This  reply  did  not  satisfy  her.  A  violent  scene  ensued. 
She  insisted  on  learning  what  induced  him  to  go  to  Bruns- 
wick. He  could  and  would  not  tell  her.  He  had  always 
shrouded  his  relations  with  that  place  in  a  veil  of  mystery, 
and  refused  now  to  lift  it. 

Madame  de  Stael  asked  him  to  accompany  her  to  Paris. 

"  Why  defy  public  opinion  ?  Why  give  M.  de  Stael  cause 
to  complain  of  me  ?  "  he  said. 

"  At  all  events,  your  reputation  would  not  suffer  in  conse- 
quence," she  replied,  bitterly. 

He  represented  to  her  that,  as  her  companion,  he  would  be 
placed  in  a  state  of  dependence  on  her,  which  was  repugnant 
to  his  self-respect.  A  man,  he  said,  must  be  something  by 
himself,  and  not  allow  himself  to  be  supported  by  a  woman. 
He  would  repair  to  Prince  Hardenberg,  who  was  at  this  junc- 
ture at  Basel  for  the  purpose  of  concluding  peace  between 
France  and  Prussia,  and  try  to  obtain  some  position  through 
his  inlluence. 


THE  FIRST  EMBASSADOK  TO  THE  NEW  REPUBLIC.       COO 

"  A  position  that  would  separate  you  from  me  ?  No,  Con- 
stant, you  must  not,  shall  not,  apply  for  such  an  one.  'your 
knowledge  and  talents  will  open  you  an  honorable  career  every- 
where. Do  you  want  to  be  rich  ?  I  will  give  you  my  whole 
fortune,  and  shall  be  glad  to  receive  a  mite  from  it  at  your 
hands.  A  woman  will  not  degrade  herself  by  such  a  state  of 
dependence." 

Constant  divined  the  reply  which  she  expected,  and  dropped 
his  eyes  in  confusion.    He  was  a  prey  to  the  most  painful  emo- 
tions.   When  he  raised  his  eyes  again,  he  met  hers,  which 
were  fixed  on  him  with  an  expression  of  the  most  profound 
grief.    He  threw  himself  at  her  feet  in  the  deepest  contrition, 
pressed  her  hands  with  the  most  affectionate  exclamation  to 
his  lips,  and  then  suddenly  rushed  out  of  the  room. 
Madame  de  Stael  looked  after  him  in  surprise. 
An  hour  went  by,  and  he  did  not  return ;  but  a  messenger 
brought  her  a  letter  written  at  the  neighboring  village.    Con- 
stant informed  her  in  it  that  he  was  ashamed  of  being  unable 
to  devote  his  whole  life  to  such  a  friend ;  he   implored  her 
not  to  banish  him  in  consequence  from  her  heart,  but  to  permit 
him  to  enter  upon  his  political  career  under  her  guidance  in 
Paris.    He  would  set  out  for  Germany  this  very  day,  in  order 
to  meet  her  the  earlier  at  the  French  capital. 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  after  reading  the  letter.  A 
violent  pain  gnawed  in  her  breast;  a  flood  of  tears  finally 
gave  her  relief. 

After  composing  herself,  she  sent  a  messenger  after  him ;  but 
he  was  unable  to  overtake  Constant,  who  had  already  returned 
to  Lausanne.  She  wrote  to  him  that  she  must  see  him  once 
more  previous  to  his  departure.  He  replied  that  he  had  already 
engaged  a  traveling-coach  and  packed  his  trunk. 
She  ordered  her  carriage  and  drove  to  Lausanne.  When 


310  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

she  halted  in  front  of  his  house,  the  shutters  of  his  windows 
were  closed,  which  told  her  that  he  had  left.  She  nevertheless 
Went  up  to  his  room,  which  was  in  a  somewhat  disorderly  state. 
Everything  was  still  lying  about  as  he  had  left  it.  Everything 
here  spoke  of  him,  and  reminded  her  of  the  days  which  she 
had  passed  with  him.  She  closed  the  door,  seated  herself,  and 
mused  on  the  events  of  the  past. 

Torn  letters  and  scraps  of  paper  littered  the  floor.  Sh« 
picked  them  up  and  tried  to  recognize  the  handwriting.  The 
characters  were  German,  and  she  was  unable  to  decipher  them. 
Only  the  hand  of  a  young  lady  could  have  penned  these  neat 
yet  firm  letters.  The  signature,  in  French  characters,  was 
"  Hardenberg."  She  concealed  these  scraps  tremblingly  in  her 
bosom,  and  hastened  from  the  room.  Hardenberg !  He  had 
often  mentioned  that  name  to  her,  but  in  a  different  connec- 
tion. 

Fortunately  the  preparations  for  her  departure  engrossed  all 
her  thoughts  for  the  next  few  days. 

"When  the  moment  was  finally  at  hand  when  she  was  to  take 
leave  of  her  father,  her  heart  failed  her.  Necker  had  lately 
grown  obese,  and  everything  indicated  that  he  would  not 
reach  an  advanced  age.  The  loss  of  his  wife  had,  moreover, 
inflicted  on  him  a  wound  which  had  scarred  over,  but  would 
not  heal.  Her  remains  had  been  buried  in  a  bosquet  of  his 
garden.  He  daily  wended  his  way  thither,  and  conversed  with 
her  in  thought. 

Madame  be  Stael  led  her  father  to  this  hallowed  spot  in 
order  to  bid  him  here  a  last  farewell.  Her  children  were  not 
to  accompany  her.  She  urgently  recommended  them  to  her 
father  at  her  mother's  grave,  and  begged  him  to  edxicate  them 
in  her  spirit.  Then  bursting  into  loud  sobs,  she  hastened  into 
her  carriage,  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  saw  no  more. 


THE  FIRST  EMBASSADOR  TO  THE  NEW  REPUBLIC.       311 

She  rolled  quietly  toward  her  destination. 

When  we  reach  after  a  prolonged  absence  the  place  where 
our  cradle  has  stood,  we  find  that  the  picture  thereof  which 
lives  in  our  memory  has  lost  its  colors,  and  no  longer  fits  the 
frame  which  we  bring  along  for  it. 

We  are  at  a  loss  to  know  if  we  contemplate  the  picture  with 
different  eyes,  or  if  the  objects  we  see  have  assumed  another 
shape ;  certain  it  is  that  we  are  no  longer  at  home  in  these  sur- 
roundings. 

When  Madame  de  Stael  descried  the  spires  of  Paris,  tears  of 
joy  filled  her  eyes.  She  would  have  liked  to  greet  every 
passer-by,  and  fold  every  stranger  to  her  heart. 

The  houses  and  streets  were  the  same ;  only  they  bore  dif- 
ferent names.  The  coats  of  arms  had  disappeared ;  the  word 
citoyen  expressed  everything.  Luxury  had  become  a  vice,  and 
simplicity  was  a  proof  of  patriotic  sentiments. 

M.  de  Stael  came  to  meet  his  wife  without  the  insignia  of 
his  rank,  and  clad  in  a  simple  black  dress-coat.  She  hardly 
recognized  him  in  his  burgher-like  costume. 

On  the  following  day  she  drove  with  him  to  Grosbois. 
and  visited  Barras,  who  held  a  reception.  Here  she  saw 
only  toilettes  of  the  Grecian  fashion,  and  so  low-necked  that 
they  made  her  blush.  The  hair  was  worn  without  powder, 
and  either  closely  cropped  d  la  cictime,  or  in  ringlets  d  la 
Titus. 

Her  dress  created  such  a  sensation  that  she  perceived  she 
would  have  to  change  it. 

When  the  footman  announced  her  and  her  husband,  he  said, 
"  Le  citoyen  Embassadeur  Stael  el  son  epouse."  These  words  were 
highly  distasteful  to  her  ears.  Her  admiration  of  the  Droit  de 
Vhomme  had  never  extended  far  enough  to  solicit  for  herself 
the  appellation,  " La  dtoyenne  Stael"  or  "  Citoyenne  Embassa- 


312  MADAME    DE   STAEL. 


With  these  words  was  coupled  a  certain  tone  of  famili- 
arity which  never  prevails  in  good  society,  and  to  which  she 
was  not  accustomed. 

Refined  manners  had  disappeared  from  society  ;  people  used 
bad  language  in  conversation,  and  wrote  even  worse.  Never- 
theless, she  had  to  take  pains  to  conceal  the  disgust  with  which 
all  this  filled  her.  Barras  was  now  a  powerful  man,  and  she 
had  to  ingratiate  herself  with  him  in  order  to  enable  her  friends 
to  return  to  France.  She  conversed  with  him  on  this  subject, 
and  interceded  with  her  habitual  warmth  in  behalf  of  the  suf- 
fering exiles. 

Barras  himself  was  of  noble  extraction,  but  he  carefully  con- 
cealed his  descent,  which  could  not  but  be  injurious  to  him. 
Nevertheless,  his  early  education  had  imparted  to  him  the 
refined  manners  of  good  society,  which  he  still  preserved. 

He  listened  smilingly  to  the  enthusiastic  encomiums  which 
the  celebrated  lady  bestowed  upon  her  exiled  friends. 

"  You  first  set  fire  to  a  house  and  then  want  to  protect  the 
inmates  against  the  flames,"  he  said,  laughing. 

"  Help  me,  and  it  will  be  all  the  same  to  me  whether  you  ac- 
cuse me  of  inconsistency,  or  not,"  she  said,  imploringly. 

However,  she  did  not  attain  her  object  so  easily.  The  Direc- 
tory was  already  accustomed  to  flattery.  The  old  nobility 
tickled  with  it  the  ears  of  the  parvenus,  either  to  save  their 
estates,  or  to  introduce  relatives  ;  and  thus  the  aristocrats  used 
toward  the  bourgeoisie  a  language  which  had  never  been  heard 
at  court,  and  which  would  have  been  less  oifensive  there,  inas- 
much as  it  would  have  been  an  expression  of  submissiveness, 
than  here,  where  sneaking  self-interest  used  it  for  the  purpose 
of  attaining  its  petty  ends. 

There  being  no  court  and  no  embassadors,  M.  de  Stael  did 
not  hold  many  receptions.  He  gambled  a  great  deal,  and 


THE  FIRST  EMBASSADOR  TO  THE  NEW  REPUBLIC.       313 

spent  his  evenings  with  M'lle  Contat.  His  wife  saw  him  very 
rarely.  Already  accustomed  to  being  left  to  herself,  she  de- 
voted her  attention,  as  formerly,  to  politics,  and  to  the  welfare 
of  her  friends.  She  opened  her  salon  and  gave  the  first  soiree— 
a  faint  shadow  of  what  social  life  had  been  before  the  Revolu- 
tion. At  the  same  time,  however,  she  took  pains  to  attract 
many  of  the  leading  men,  partly  in  order  to  gain  political  in- 
fluence, and  partly  to  enable  her  proscribed  friends  to  return 
to  France.  These  efforts  were  injurious  to  her  character  as  a 
woman,  and  she  was  called  an  intriguer ;  but  she  never  spared 
herself  whenever  she  tried  to  obtain  an  object  upon  which  she 
had  set  her  heart 

Talleyrand  had  been  compelled  to  leave  England,  and  lived 
now  in  America.  By  interceding  with  Barras  in  his  behalf, 
she  obtained  permission  for  him  to  return  to  France.  Trem- 
bling for  joy,  she  seated  herself  at  her  writing-table  in  order  to 
communicate  the  glad  tidings  to  him. 

In  regard  to  Narbonne  she  was  unsuccessful.  He  lived  in 
obscurity  in  the  Canton  of  Glarus,  where  he  underwent  a  great 
many  privations ;  nevertheless,  he  refused  to  return  to  France 
as  long  as  it  was  in  the  hands  of  a  government  which  he  hated 
and  despised.  Vainly  did  Madame  de  Stael  attempt  to  change 
his  mind  in  this  respect ;  vainly  did  she  represent  to  him  that 
he  might  use  his  influence  in  bringing  about  a  better  state  of 
affairs  ;  he  persisted  in  his  refusal  to  erect  a  structure  on  such 
a  foundation,  inasmuch  as  it  would  be  certain  to  break  down 
over  his  own  head. 

Mesdames  Beauharnais  and  Tallien  likewise  opened  their 
salons;  the  theaters  were  more  liberally  patronized;  and,  as 
formerly,  Madame  de  Stael  had  many  opportunities  to  display 
her  surpassing  talents,  and  to  assert  her  superiority.  Never- 
theless she  did  not  feel  happy. 
14 


314  MADAME    DE    STAKL. 

From  week  to  week  since  her  arrival  she  had  looked  forward 
to  Benjamin  Constant's  return,  and  her  impatience  knew  no 
bounds.  When  he  asked  again  and  again  for  delays,  without 
being  able  to  give  her  any  plausible  reasons  for  these  requests, 
she  was  often  perfectly  beside  herself,  and  almost  determined 
to  follow  him.  But  how  can  we  attach  to  us  by  dint  of 
prayers  and  reproaches,  a  friendship  which  refuses  to  grant 
any  rights  to  the  other  side. 

Her  head  told  her  that  this  was  impossible,  but  her  heart 
always  silenced  its  voice.  She  knew  by  experience  how  many 
relations  in  life  a  man  will  prize  more  highly  than  his  friend- 
ship for  a  woman,  and  how  easily  he  can  do  without  her  when 
his  ambition,  self-interest,  or  another  passion  of  the  same 
description  guides  his  steps.  She  had  had  to  submit,  sighingly 
to  the  refusal  of  her  friends  to  break  other  fetters  for  her  sake, 
and  to  the  readiness  with  which  they  allowed  her  to  enter  a 
union  which  was  a  mere  marriage  de  convenance,  rather  than 
grant  her  a  position  to  which  she  believed  herself  to  be  per- 
fectly equal.  She  had  suffered  and  forgotten  all  this,  and  had 
constantly  remained  a  faithful  friend  of  these  men.  But  was 
she  to  prove  again  and  again  how  gladly  she  sacrificed  herself 
in  order  to  promote  the  interests  of  others  ? 

She  wrote  daily  to  M.  de  Rebecque,  and  reminded  him  of  his 
promise.  She  depicted  to  him  in  glowing  colors  how  deeply 
she  felt  his  faithlessness,  and  how  sorry  she  was  to  be  unable 
to  hasten  to  him  in  order  to  impress  him  orally  still  more  viv- 
idly with  the  wound  which  he  had  inflicted  on  her  happiness. 

Such  letters  filled  Constant  with  the  most  painful  emotions. 
Enchained  as  he  was  by  a  genuine  affection,  it  was  difficult  for 
him  to  leave  the  lady  of  his  heart.  And  yet  Madame  de  Stael 
exercised  over  his  imagination  an  influence  which  attracted 
him  to  her  almost  against  his  will. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  NEW  PARIS. 

ON  a  warm  August  morning,  Benjamin  Constant  de  Re- 
becque,  after  making  a  trip  through  the  Rhenish  provinces  and 
Holland,  reached  at  length  the  capital  of  the  French  Republic. 
Upon  arriving  at  the  Barrierk,  he  left  the  stage-coach  and 
•walked  slowly  along  the  road  which  had  been  pointed  out  to 
him,  in  order  to  receive  undisturbedly  the  first  impressions 
which  the  great  city  would  produce  upon  him.  To  see  Paris 
was  then  an  important  event  for  a  young  man.  He  looked 
curiously  at  the  houses  and  people.  Suddenly  his  eyes  fell  on 
a  cart  filled  with  twenty  gensd'armes,  who  were  being  taken 
to  the  place  of  execution.  He  averted  his  head  shudderingly 
from  the  dreadful  sight.  These  gensd'armes  were  the  old  re- 
tainers of  Fouquier  Tinville,  who  had  joined  the  insurgents  of 
the  first  of  Prairial.  Good-looking  young  men,  armed  with 
sabers  and  pikes,  hastened  through  the  streets,  and  drove  be- 
fore them  the  working-men  who  had  taken  part  in  the  attack 
upon  the  Convention.  Batteries  were  planted  in  the  streets, 
and  Paris  resembled  a  battle-field  after  a  battle. 

Benjamin  Constant  reached  Madame  de  Stael's  house  hi  the 
highest  agitation. 

The  servant  had  misunderstood  his  name  ;  she  did  not  know 
that  it  was  her  friend  whom  he  had  announced,  and  she  greeted 
him  with  a  loud  cry  of  surprise,  terror,  and  joy.  She  repeated 
to  him  the  invitation  to  take  up  his  abode  at  her  house.  Con- 


Sid  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

stant  begged  her  to  permit  him  not  to  avail  himself  of  this 
offer.  As  M.  de  Stael  was  unacquainted  with  him,  it  could  not 
be  agreeable  to  him  to  see  a  young  stranger  treated  as  a  mem- 
ber of  his  family.  She  pouted  at  his  refusal,  and  eyed  him 
distrustfully.  The  name  "  Hardenberg  "  was  on  her  lips ;  but 
she  still  hesitated  to  utter  it.  She  was  afraid  of  its  sound. 

On  the  same  evening  she  gave  a  soiree,  at  which  he  formed 
the  acquaintance  of  Suard,  Morellet,  Lacretelle,  Laharpe,  the 
brilliant  Lauraguais,  Castellane,Choiseul,and  many  other  emi- 
nent men.  When  he  went  to  bed  that  night,  his  head  swam, 
from  all  that  he  had  heard  and  seen. 

On  the  following  morning,  Madame  de  Stael  drove  with  him 
to  Barras,  and  recommended  her  protege  to  that  all-powerful 
man ;  she  then  introduced  him  to  the  ladies  of  her  acquaint- 
ance. 

M.  de  Stael  was  at  Passy.  When  he  returned  from  thence 
after  a  few  days,  he  met  his  guest  for  the  first  time.  He  greeted 
him  coldly,  and  evidently  took  no  interest  in  the  young  man 
whom  his  wife  so  visibly  distinguished. 

Benjamin  Constant  was  ill  at  ease  in  his  presence.  When 
he  was  alone  again  with  Madame  de  Stael,  he  begged  her  to 
bestow  less  attention  on  him  in  the  presence  of  otherg.  She 
gazed  at  him  for  several  minutes  in  speechless  astonishment. 

"  You  wish  to  teach  me  that  falseness  and  deceit  which  you 
like  so  well  in  my  sex,"  she  then  said,  half  mournfully,  half 
bitterly ;  "  but  it  is  a  vain  endeavor  1  I  am  my  father's  daugh- 
ter, and,  above  all,  want  to  remain  truthful.  I  shall  never 
deny  my  friendship  for  you." 

Constant  kept  silence,  as  always  when  he  saw  her  sad  or 
vexed.  He  was  not  courageous  enough  to  make  her  unhappy, 
and  re-assured  her,  in  his  cowardly  way,  by  words  and  assu- 
rances in  which  he  did  not  believe  himself. 


THE   NEW   PARIS.  317 

She  took  him  out  to  Saint-Brice,  and  introduced  him  to 
Marmontel,  who  had  lost  his  fortune  and  his  salary  during  the 
Revolution,  and  now  looked  anxiously  upon  his  young  family, 
whom  he  was  scarcely  able  to  protect  against  want.  It  af- 
forded Madame  de  Stael  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  to  show  her 
young  friend  the  place  where  she  had  passed  her  youth,  and 
to  speak  of  by -gone  times  which  were  so  rich  in  hope  and 
fame. 

Marmontel  was  exceedingly  glad  to  see  her  again,  and, 
vividly  depicted  to  her  the  years  of  anxiety  and  care  which 
he  had  passed  here,  so  close  to  the  scene  of  terror.  So  many 
of  their  common  friends  had  perished  so  piteously,  she  shud- 
dered as  he  related  to  her  the  details  of  the  mournful  fate 
which  had  befallen  them.  He  alluded  also  to  Condorcet,  and 
told  her  how  that  able  and  brilliant  man,  who  had  just  com- 
pleted his  noble  work  on  the  progress  of  the  human  mind,  per- 
secuted as  he  was  by  Robespierre,  had  taken  poison. 

"  The  fictions  of  us  poets  are  so  dull  when  we  compare 
them  with  the  wonderful  complications  of  human  destinies, 
which  real  life  offers,"  said  Marmontel,  thoughtfully. 

They  parted  most  cordially. 

On  the  following  day,  M.  de  Stael  was  even  more  morose 
and  taciturn  than  usual.  Constant,  gathering  all  his  courage, 
spoke  to  him,  and  tried  to  enter  into  a  conversation  with  him. 
Vain  endeavor!  When  he  asked  the  Embassador  if  there 
was  any  political  news,  M.  de  Stael  replied  that  the  Ami 
du  Oitoyen  contained  only  the  news  that  Citoyen  Benjamin 
Constant  was  the  Deje&ner  d  la  fourchette  of  Madame  de  Stael. 
So  saying,  he  left  the  room.  Constant  looked  after  him  in 
confusion. 

He  and  Madame  de  Stael  sat  opposite  to  each  other  in 
silence.  Neither  of  them  dared  to  utter  the  first  word.  Finally 


318  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

Constant  jumped  up,  intending  to  seize  his  bat  and  hasten  from 
the  room ;  but  Madame  de  Stael  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm  and 
detained  him.  As  usual,  so  he  yielded  to-day,  too,  to  her 
prayers. 

A  new  life  had  dawned  upon  Madame  de  Stael.  She  wanted 
to  open  to  her  young  friend  the  road  to  that  fame  to  which 
she  herself  was  not  at  liberty  to  aspire ;  she  wished  to  plunge 
him  into  the  political  career,  and  then  enjoy  the  successes 
which  her  ambition  would  enable  him  to  achieve. 

She  presented  him  to  Madame  Tallien  and  Madame  Beau- 
harnais,  the  aunt  of  the  future  Empress,  both  of  whom  re- 
ceived at  their  salons  a  large  number  of  the  most  eminent  men. 
The  German,  or  at  all  events  German-looking,  young  man,  with 
his  long,  golden  hair,  and  his  open,  radiant  eyes,  was  well 
liked ;  and  before  long  many  felt  inclined  to  take  him  under 
their  protection,  in  order  to  gain  political  influence  by  his 
talents. 

Madame  de  Stael,  however,  was  by  no  means  disposed  to 
give  him  up  so  easily.  She  believed  to  have  found  in  him  at 
length  the  friend  to  whom  she  might  devote  herself  entirely, 
and  sacrifice  everything ;  and  who,  in  return,  would  bestow  on 
her  the  affections  of  a  true  and  constant  heart.  His  German 
ideas,  his  philosophical  systems,  his  enthusiasm,  and  his  naive 
and  simple  bearing  enchanted  her !  Why  had  she  not  met  him 
at  an  earlier  day?  Neither  his  religion  nor  the  objections  of 
his  family  would  have  prevented  a  union  between  her  and  him ; 
and  by  his  side  she  would  have  enjoyed  that  happiness  which 
she  considered  the  greatest  and  most  enviable :  a  union  with  a 
beloved  husband.  "  I  shall  compel  my  daughter  to  marry  the 
man  whom  she  loves,"  she  would  often  say,  with  a  sigh,  when 
thinking  of  her  own  disappointments. 

But  then,  was  her  case  really  hopeless  ? 


THE    NEW    PARIS.  319 

'    M.  lie  Stael  would  not  have  objected  to  a  divorce,  provided 
he  received  a  suitable  pecuniary  compensation  for  the  loss  of   • 
his  wife.    He  was,  moreover,  old  and  infirm,  and  by  no  means 
disposed  to  husband  his  strength ;  so  his  life  could  not  be  of 
long  duration. 

.  But  could  Madame  de  Stael  broach  the  possibility  of  such  a 
solution  of  her  union  with  her  husband  ? 

Benjamin  Constant  evaded  every  conversation  whose  drift 
•was  in  that  direction,  and  so  she  contented  herself  with  the 
expectation  that  his  growing  attachment  to  her  would  lead  to 
that  declaration  for  which  she  longed  so  intently. 

Meanwhile  she  guided  his  steps  in  the  path  which  his  ambi- 
tion and  hankering  after  popularity  had  caused  him  to  enter, 
and  rejoiced  at  his  success. 

In  autumn  Talleyrand  returned  likewise,  and  hastened  to 
thank  her  for  her  intercession  in  his  behalf.  He  had  been  at 
Hamburg,  where  Madame  de  Genlis  lived  in  exile,  and  brought 
Madame  de  Stael  news  in  regard  to  the  life  which  her  present 
rival  and  former  idol  was  leading  in  that  city.  The  love 
affairs,  however,  in  which  he  had  engaged  in  Hamburg-,  he 
took  good  care  not  to  mention. 

Madame  de  Stael  was  occupied  with  her  toilet  when  Talley- 
rand sent  in  his  name ;  and,  in  consonance  with  the  custom  of 
that  period,  she  received  him  in  her  dressing-room.  M'lle 
Olive  dressed  her  while  she  herself  rolled  a  small  green  twig 
between  her  fingers.  Like  all  vivacious  persons,  she  had  to 
keep  her  hands  busy  in  this  manner  in  order  to  divert  her  nat- 
ural restlessness.  Standing  before  her  large  mirror,  she  con- 
versed with  him  in  the  most  animated  manner,  when  suddenly 
the  beautiful  Madame  Recamier,  dressed  in  white,  entered  the 
room  and  seated  herself  on  a  light-blue  sofa,  bordered  with 
gold.  Talleyrand  had  risen  at  her  entrance  in  order  to  bow  to 


320  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

her,  and  he  now  remained  standing  before  her  with  an  air  of 
•  ardent  admiration.  The  beautiful  lady  gayly  chatted  with 
Madame  de  Stael  for  a  few  minutes  about  the  manner  in. 
which  they  could  pass  the  day.  She  then  disappeared  as 
noiselessly  as  she  had  come. 

"  How  beautiful  and  charming  she  is ! "  exclaimed  Talley: 
rand. 

"She  is  an  angel!"  warmly  replied  Madame  de  Stacl.  "I 
did  not  get  acquainted  with  her  until  recently,  at  the  sale  of 
my  father's  house,  which  she  purchased.  She  was  very  bashful 
on  that  occasion ;  she  was  afraid  of  my  intellectual  superiority, 
and  I  had  considerable  difficulty  in  winning  her.  But  now  she 
is  mine.  "We  are  tenderly  attached  to  one  another.  She  lives 
at  Chateau  Clichy,  and  is  but  rarely  in  Paris,  inasmuch  as  she 
is  afraid  of  the  great  world.  At  her  Chateau  she  sees  a  great 
many  Interesting  persons,  among  whom  is  also  Lucien  Bona- 
parte, whose  affections  she  has  completely  won.  But  what 
heart  could  remain  indifferent  to  such  a  charming  person- 
age?" 

"  Mine,  I  hope,"  replied  Talleyrand,  jocularly.  "  "Women 
cause  us  so  much  more  pain  than  joy,  that  it  really  seems  tome 
they  must  have  been  created  in  order  to  punish  us  rather  than 
to  gladden  our  hearts,  unless  they  possess  such  a  gifted  mind 
as  yours." 

Madame  de  Stael  took  no  notice  of  this  compliment,  and 
recommended  her  new  protege  to  the  kind  favor  of  the  experi- 
enced politician. 

"  You  ask  me  to  be  so  disinterested  as  to  promote  the  inter- 
ests of  a  young  man  who  is  evidently  dear  to  your  heart  ? " 
he  said,  smilingly. 

"  I  am  sure  you  do  not  expect  me  to  solicit  your  influence 
in  behalf  of  my  enemies  ?  "  she  asked,  laughing. 


THE   NEW  PARIS.  321 

"  Very  well.    But  in  what  way  can  I  serve  him  ?  " 

"  By  teaching  him  to  turn  circumstances  adroitly  to  account." 
"  You  are  a  dangerous  woman,"  he  replied ;  "  for  you  see 
through  my  policy  as  you  once  saw  through  my  heart." 

"Until  you  locked  the  door  of  it,"  she  interrupted  him, 
laughingly;  "  for  you  felt  that  I  might  discover  too  much  in 
it." 

"  Ah,  those  were  glorious  times,"  said  Talleyrand,  covering 
his  smooth  forehead  with  his  white  hand.  "  Now  I  am  grow- 
ing old,  and  no  one  cares  any  more  for  me." 

"  You  cannot  be  in  earnest.  You  really  do  not  look  like  a 
man  determined  to  renounce  the  pleasures  of  life.  But  tell  me 
now,  how  do  you  like  our  republican  Paris  ?  How  did  it 
strike  you  ?  " 

"  Citoyenne  Stael,  I  find  the  tone  somewhat  vulgar,  and  the 
language  rather  coarse  and  blunt.  One  believes  at  times  to 
have  descended  into  the  kitchen  of  one's  hotel." 

"  The  Parisians  speak,  at  all  events,  a  very  plain  and  expres- 
sive language ;  they  use  no  smooth  words,  no  unnecessary 
phrases.  BufiFon  would  laugh  at  his  florid  style,  if  he  should 
compare  it  with  his  plain  and  sober  language." 

Thus  the  aristocratic  classes  laughed  and  joked  about  repub- 
lican France,  and  a  society  of  young  cavaliers  who  called 
themselves  Incroyables  even  marched  about  publicly,  and  de- 
rided the  manners  and  costume  of  the  new  democracy. 

Madame  cle  Stael  disliked  the  new  tone  of  society,  and  the 
social  changes  brought  about  by  the  Revolution ;  but  she  ac- 
quiesced in  everything,  inasmuch  as  the  droit  de  Vhomme,  to 
which  she  still  adhered  as  ardently  as  ever,  could  not  be  se- 
cured in  any  other  way. 

Benjamin  Constant  was  now  her  inseparable  companion ; 
she  clung  to  him  with  all  her  wishes  and  hopes,  and  built  on 
14* 


322  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

him  both  the  happiness  of  her  future  and  that  of  the  present 
moment. 

She  appropriated,  as  it  were,  his  talents,  and  turned  them  to 
account.  He  often  painfully  felt  the  fetters  which  she  thus 
imposed  on  him.  Whenever  he  made  an  attempt  to  free 
himself  from  her  influence,  she  flew  into  a  towering  passion, 
and  overwhelmed  him  with  a  flood  of  reproaches  and  tears. 
He  longed  to  escape  from  her,  and  yet  he  could  not  do  with- 
out her. 

"Jamaisje  rfaiete  aime  commefaime,"  she  said  to  him,  mourn- 
fully, one  day ;  and,  more  profoundly  moved  by  the  reproach- 
ful expression  of  her  eyes  than  by  the  vehement  words  of  her 
passion,  he  came  near  betraying  his  secret  to  her.  Kneeling 
down  before  her,  and  pressing  her  beautiful  hands  to  his  Lps, 
he  said :  "  Would  to  God  I  had  been  at  liberty  to  offer  you  my 
whole  heart." 

"At  liberty!"  she  exclaimed,  in  the  utmost  agits.  ion. 
"  What  do  you  mean,  Constant  ?  Pray  do  not  goad  n  e  ta 
madness  by  such  terrible  allusions  !" 

Instead  of  disclosing  anything  to  her,  he  reassured  het 
again,  on  seeing  the  state  of  mind  into  which  his  words  had 
thrown  her. 

Thus  passed  the  summer.  Benjamin  Constant  was  at  work 
upon  his  book,  Les  Effete  de  la  Terreur,  and  issued  his  Reactions 
Poliliques. 

He  was  now  carried  away  more  and  more  by  the  political 
current,  and  allowed  himself  to  be  guided  by  this  gifted  lady, 
who  used  him  as  a  tool  of  her  ambition.  The  solemn  festival 
of  the  promulgation  of  the  Constitution  was  celebrated ;  it  was 
the  Constitution  of  the  year  III,  that  was  offered  to  France  ; 
and  the  excitement  ran  very  high  in  Paris,  when  this  palla- 
dium of  national  liberty  was  publicly  read. 


THE   NEW  PAPJS.  323 

Benjamin  Constant  could  certainly  not  remain  a  passive' 
looker-on  at  a  moment  when  he  saw  a  whole  nation  in  a  blaze 
of  excitement ;  and  Madame  de  Stael  had  no  difficulty  in  per- 
suading him  to  cuter  the  public  arena  at  this  juncture,  and  ren- 
der his  name  famous.  So  he  published  in  the  newspapers 
three  letters  in  opposition  to  the  decree  by  which  two-thirds  of 
the  members  of  the  Convention  were  to  enter  the  new  Na- 
tional Assembly.  These  letters  created  the  greatest  sensation. 
Everybody  wanted  to  get  acquainted  with  the  author.  He  was 
overwhelmed  with  the  most  flattering  invitations,  and  the 
most  beautiful  ladies  tried  to  ingratiate  themselves  with  him, 
and  offered  him  their  protection. 

These  singular  demonstrations  opened  his  eyes.  He  per- 
ceived that  he  had  defended  a  cause  to  which  he  was  hostile 
at  heart ;  and  this  first  misstep  in  his  political  career  taught 
him  henceforth  to  be  more  prudent.  He  had  found  out  how 
difficult  it  is  for  a  man  to  take  back  what  he  has  once  said,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  how  humiliating  it  is  to  be  praised  for  a 
grievous  blunder. 

The  young  stranger  had  now  made  his  name  famous.  He 
could  no  longer  act  the  humble  protege  of  Madame  de  Stael. 
She  was  proud  of  his  successes,  and  yet  it  was  painful  for  her 
to  feel  eveiy  now  and  then  that  he  had  now  less  need  of  her 
than  heretofore.  She  followed  him  in  thought  at  every  step 
he  made.  Whenever  he  left  her,  she  asked  him  when  he  would 
return  to  her ;  and  when  he  tarried  too  long,  he  found  her  in 
an  agony  of  impatience,  and  her  beautiful  eyes  bathed  in  tears. 

This  state  of  dependence  often  tried  his  patience  severely  ; 
still,  he  was  unable  to  free  himself  from  it. 

She  wished  to  visit  her  father  and  her  children  before  the  be- 
ginning of  winter,  and  to  take  the  latter  to  Paris  in  case 
Necker  should  not  miss  their  presence. 


324  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

"  Will  you  accompany  me  to  Coppet  ?  "  she  said  to  Benjamin 
Constant. 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  I  ? "  he  asked  at  last.  "  What  would  the  world,  what 
would  M.  de  Stael  say  to  that,  and  how  should  I  be  able  to 
meet  your  father  and  your  children,  after  undermining  the 
reputation  of  their  mother  ?  " 

"  This  answer  is  dictated  by  your  head,  but  not  by  your 
heart,"  she  said,  angrily,  and  stepped  to  the  window.  His  reply 
had  mortified  her  deeply.  She  was  at  a  loss  to  understand 
his  course.  He  was  attached  to  her ;  she  had  no  doubt  that  he 
longed  to  be  with  her,  and  yet  he  seemed  to  shrink  from  the 
idea  of  uniting  his  destiny  with  hers.  She  sighed  profoundly. 
It  was  always  the  same  story ;  she  met  again  and  again  with 
men  who,  weak  and  vacillating,  could  not  make  up  their 
minds  either  to  belong  to  her,  or  to  break  with  her. 

PJiedre  was  performed  for  the  benefit  of  M'lle  Contat,  the 
price  of  admission  having  been  raised  to  three  times  the  usual 
rate.  Constant  sat  at  the  opera  behind  Madame  de  Stael, 
while  her  husband  passed  the  evening  behind  the  scenes,  and 
presenting  to  the  actress  costly  gifts,  for  which  his  wife  had 
to  pay.  The  luxury  that  was  now  displayed  in  Paris  was 
greater  than  ever,  and  the  number  of  brilliant  festivities  and 
equipages  was  constantly  on  the  increase.  The  ladies  had 
recovered  their  power.  On  the  4th  of  October  Madame  de 
Stael  heard  for  the  first  time  the  name  Napoleon,  which  was 
to  become  so  fatal  to  her ;  and  Napoleon  soon  wrote  to  his 
brother  Joseph,  "  Every  woman  should  pass  six  months  in  Paris 
in  order  to  learn  how  powerful  she  is,  and  what  is  due  to  her." 

It  was  difficult  for  Madame  de  Stael  to  leave  Paris  at  this 
juncture;  yet  she  yielded  to  her  father's  wishes,  and  set  out 
for  Coppet. 


CHAPTER  V. 

GUILT  AND    EXPIATION. 

WHEN  Madame  de  Stael,  on  the  morning  after  her  return 
from  Coppet,  sat  hi  deshabille  at  the  breakfast-table,  Mathieu 
de  Montmorency  entered  her  room.  She  greeted  with  loud 
joy  the  friend  who  was  so  dear  to  her  heart.  He  had  been  the 
hero  of  the  most  beautiful  dreams  of  her  youth ;  and  no 
woman  ever  forgets  such  reminiscences. 

She  was  overjoyed  to  see  him  once  more  in  his  native 
country,  in  his  wonted  surroundings,  and  in  the  same  city  with 
her.  "  You  were  wanting  to  me,  Montmorency ! "  she  said, 
holding  out  to  him  her  beautiful  hand,  and  tenderly  fixing 
her  large  eyes  on  him.  "  Even  though  France  may  not  have 
become  what  we  wished  to  make  of  her,  she  has  at  all  events 
gained  a  great  deal.  Grievous  abuses  have  been  abolished, 
the  rights  of  man  are  acknowledged,  and  all  men  are  equal 
before  the  law.  These  are  steps  forward  in  the  path  of  human- 
ity, which  we  must  not  lose  sight  of  when  the  imperfection  of 
our  constitution  makes  a  disagreeable  impression  on  us." 

"  Let  us  say  no  more  about  it,"  said  Montmorency,  with  a  de- 
precating gesture,  while  a  shudder  ran  through  his  frame.  "  I 
saw  my  only  brother  die  on  the  scaffold,  and  no  one  can  ever 
forget  such  a  scene.  The  remembrance  of  it  follows  me  at 
every  step.  The  streets  of  Paris  are  in  my  eyes  drenched  in 
blood ;  a  constitution  written  with  a  guillotine  is  abhorrent ;  and 
so  are  the  rights  of  man,  asserted  as  it  were  by  wholesale  as- 


326  MADAME    DE   STAEL. 

sassination.  My  past  life  was  an  error  which  I  shall  repent  of 
all  my  lifetime." 

She  vainly  endeavored  to  excite  his  interest  in  the  political 
events  of  the  day.  His  eyes  would  not  kindle  when  she  spoke 
of  her  hopes  in  regard  to  them,  and  her  most  impassioned 
appeals  met  with  no  response  from  him.  He  said  he  would 
devote  his  strength  only  to  deeds  of  charity,  and  to  expiation. 

She  looked  at  him  mournfully.  He  was  no  longer  the  youth- 
ful hero  who  spoke  so  ardently  of  the  happiness  of  mankind, 
and  sacrificed  so  readily  his  name,  his  fortune,  his  whole  self 
to  the  welfare  of  France.  How  quickly  this  enchanting  dream 
had  vanished  !  In  the  prime  of  life,  handsome  and  strong,  he 
displayed  the  resignation  of  an  old  man.  A  life  destitute  of 
hopes  and  wishes,  is  the  mere  prelude  to  death. 

She  paced  her  room  repeatedly  in  great  agitation,  while 
these  thoughts  passed  through  her  niind.  Her  breast  heaved 
profound  sighs.  It  always  costs  a  struggle  to  part  with  the 
companions  of  a  period  of  our  life  which  has  taken  root  in 
our  soul  in  this  manner.  She  asked  herself  if  she  had  not 
likewise  grown  poorer  in  hopes,  and  had  ceased  to  wish.  But 
she  did  not  wait  for  the  reply  which  frightened  her.  She  clung 
fearfully  to  the  blade  which  her  hand  still  was  able  to  grasp, 
lest  her  life  should  become  utterly  aimless  and  blank. 

She  had  nothing  to  regret,  nothing  to  lament,  inasmuch  as 
only  the  prompter's  part  had  fallen  to  her  share. 

They  parted  in  deep  emotion.  Both  of  them  felt  that  hence- 
forth they  could  no  longer  love  in  each  other  what  they 
prized  highest,  and  that  they  had  to  share  each  other's  sensi- 
bilities, and  that  they  had  to  use  the  past  as  the  base  of  the 
friendly  feeling  of  the  present. 

She  glanced  at  the  clock  after  he  had  left  her.  The  hour 
had  come  when  she  looked  for  Benjamin  Constant,  but  he  did 


GUILT   AND   EXPIATION.  327 

not  make  his  appearance.  She  counted  the  minutes  in  an 
agony  of  impatience.  To-day  she  had  more  need  of  him  than 
ever  before.  The  impression  which  Montmorency  had  left  on 
her  mind  was  so  crushing,  that  she  longed  to  derive  strength 
and  comfort  from  his  fresh  and  hopeful  beiug.  With  him,  she 
could  dream  of  a  brilliant  future. 

He  tarried  long  beyond  the  appointed  time.  When  he 
made  his  appearance  at  last,  she  feigned  to  be  absorbed  in  a 
book,  and  took  no  notice  of  him.  This  irritated  him,  and  he 
said,  "  You  have  no  need  of  me  to-day ;  so  I  will  leave  you 
immediately.  I  am  sorry  for  the  precious  time  which  I  have 
lost  in  coming  to  you." 

A  violent  scene  ensued.  Constant  complained  of  the  re- 
straints which  she  imposed  on  him,  and  of  her  distrust,  which 
called  him  to  account  at  every  step  he  made.  She  burst  into 
tears,  and  as  usual  he  was  vanquished.  But  he  could  not  take 
back  the  harsh  words  which  he  had  uttered,  nor  could  she  for- 
get them..  The  worst  consequence  arising  from  such  scenes  is 
that  the  reproaches  uttered  on  those  occasions  are  certain  to  be 
repeated  sooner  or  later. 

Imprudent  as  she  always  was,  she  had  not  locked  her  door. 
M.  de  Stael  suddenly  entered  the  room  in  the  midst  of  this 
scene.  He  looked  in  surprise  at  the  tearful  eyes  of  his  wife,  and 
cast  a  contemptuous  glance  at  the  young  man  who  stood  before 
him  in  confusion,  and  did  not  know  what  excuse  he  should 
offer  to  him. 

"  Inasimich  as  your  conversation  seems  to  afford  but  little 
pleasure  to  Madame  de  Stael,  I  believe  it  would  be  best  for  you 
not  to  visit  our  house  any  longer,"  he  said,  with  frigid  politeness. 

Constant  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  took  his  hat,  and 
left  the  room. 

Madame  de  Stael  sent  an  imploring  glance  after  him,  but  ho 


328  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

took  no  notice  of  it.  In  despair  at  the  insulting  manner  in 
which  her  friend  had  been  driven  from  her  house,  she  now 
vented  her  anger  on  her  husband. 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir,  what  right  you  have  to  meddle  with  my 
private  affairs  in  this  manner,"  she  said,  in  a  proud  tone.  "  I 
think  it  should  be  left  to  myself  to  get  rid  of  acquaintances 
whom  I  dislike,  and  you  should  refrain  from  anticipating  me 
in  this  respect.  You  have  grievously  insulted  M.  cle  Rebecque, 
and  I  now  ask  you  to  beg  his  pardon." 

"  I  do  not  deem  it  incumbent  on  me  to  use  very  prudent 
language  toward  a  young  adventurer  who  forces  himself  as  a 
parasite  into  my  house,"  replied  M.  de  Stael,  coldly.  "  As  to 
you,  Madame,  I  ask  you  not  to  sully  a  name  which  your  chil- 
dren are  going  to  bear.  If  you  are  unable  to  perform  your  duty 
as  a  wife,  you  will,  as  a  mother,  certainly  take  pains  to  submit 
to  the  rules  of  decorum  and  propriety." 

"  Your  reproaches  are  utterly  groundless,"  she  said,  coldly. 

"  All  I  have  to  say  on  this  point  is,  that  the  wife  of  the 
Swedish  Embassador  receives  a  young  stranger  at  the  most 
unseasonable  hours  of  the  day,  and  enacts  with  him  noisy 
scenes,  to  which  all  the  servants  may  listen  at  the  doors.  That 
seems  to  me  sufficient.  You  have  always  regarded  imprudent 
steps,  which  scandalized  the  world,  as  eminently  praiseworthy  ; 
and  I  overlooked  many  of  them,  engrossed  as  my  attention  was 
by  political  affairs ;  but  now  I  have  leisure  to  watch  over 
your  honor,  which  is  mine,  too,  as  long  as  you  bear  my  name." 

"  An  honor  for  which  my  father  has  paid  half  my  fortune ; 
I  should  think  that  that  made  us  even,  sir." 

"  Not  quite,"  he  replied,  coldly. 

"  What  else  do  you  want  ? " 

"  I  want  you  to  discontinue  your  acquaintance  with  Con 
stant." 


GUILT   AND   EXPIATION.  329 

"  In  that  case  I  suppose  I  am  at  liberty  to  ask  you  to  pursue 
the  same  course  toward  your  fair  friends  ?  "  she  asked,  sarcas- 
tically. 

"  No,"  he  said,  with  icy  calmness.  "  A  man's  position  in 
the  world  is  different  from  that  of  a  woman.  I  may  defy  pub- 
lic opinion,  but  you  must  bow  to  it." 

"  But  what  if  I  refuse  to  do  so  ?" 

"  You  must,  then,  stand  the  consequences.  I  am  the  master 
of  this  house,  and  the  servants  have  hands  to  eject  intruders." 

So  saying,  he  rose  and  left  the  room. 

Madame  de  Stael  sank  to  the  floor  in  an  agony  of  grief  and 
despair.  It  took  her  a  long  time  to  regain  composure  enough 
to  ring  for  her  maid  and  dress  herself.  When  she  had  finished 
her  toilet,  she  left,  on  foot,  her  house,  to  which  she  did  not  in- 
tend to  return. 

When  Benjamin  Constant,  at  a  late  hour  in  the  evening,  re- 
turned to  his  house,  he  was  informed  that  a  lady,  who  insisted 
on  seeing  him,  was  waiting  for  him. 

He  hastened  up-stairs  in  dismay,  and  entered  his  room. 

At  his  entrance  Madame  de  Stael  rose  and  came  to  meet  him 
with  a  timid  air. 

"  For  God's  sake,"  he  exclaimed,  in  an  undertone,  locking  the 
door  anxiously,  lest  inquisitive  persons  should  disturb  them, 
"  for  God's  sake,  what  brought  you  here  ?  " 

She  told  him  what  had  happened. 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  he  asked,  anxiously. 

"I  count  upon  you,"  she  said,  timidly. 

"  Upon  me ! "  cried  Constant,  as  if  in  despair,  burying  his 
face  in  his  hands.  "  Upon  me  !  Have  mercy  on  me,  and  take 
back  these  words  !  It  is  time  yet ;  your  house  is  still  open  to 
you.  Do  not  lose  a  moment.  Every  minute  is  precious.  Tie- 
member  your  children.  Remember  your"  old  father,  and  the 


330  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

honorable  name  which  you  bear."  He  implored  her  by  all 
that  was  sacred  to  her,  not  to  venture  so  desperate  a  step  which 
could  never  be  retrieved.  She  listened  to  him  with  a  mourn- 
ful air. 

"  If  you  turn  me  out,  very  well ;  I  shall  go  to  a  hotel,"  she 
said,  with  an  expression  which  made  him  tremble.  No  matter 
what  he  said  to  her,  she  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  appeals. 

"  You  are  the  last  hope  of  my  life,"  she  repeated  to  him.  "  I 
am  forbidden  to  receive  you  at  my  house.  Well,  then,  I  shall 
see  you  elsewhere.  M.  de  Stael  can  do  without  me ;  but  I  can- 
not do  without  you." 

"  But  you  cannot  intend  to  take  up  your  residence  in  these 
humble  rooms,"  he  objected ;  "  they  do  not  offer  you  any  comfort 
whatever." 

She  now  cast  the  first  glance  at  her  surroundings.  A  smile 
lit  up  her  features  as  she  did  so.  "  Yes,  I  see  your  rooms  do 
not  allow  you  to  receive  your  friends  here,"  she  then  said. 

"  Well,  then,  you  can  and  will  not  stay  here ;  so  you  will 
now  return  to  your  house.  I  shall  get  you  a  carriage.  As  yet 
you  can  go  back  without  exciting  any  suspicion.  To-morrow 
you  will  try  to  find  a  house  suitable  to  your  circumstances  ;  as 
soon  as  you  are  there,  send  for  me,  and  I  shall  hasten  to  you." 

He  threw  himself  at  her  feet  and  implored  her  to  comply 
with  his  wishes.  She  looked  at  him  compassionately. 

"  I  shall  go,"  she  said,  "  but  alone." 

So  saying,  she  rose  and  left  the  room. 

Constant  remained  in  a  state  of  indescribable  anxiety.  He 
did  not  touch  his  bed,  but  paced  his  room  all  night  long,  and 
shudderingly  looked  forward  to  the  coining  clay.  He  was  de- 
termined not  to  go  to  the  house  of  the  Swedish  Embassador 
to  inquire  whether  or  not  Madame  de  Stael  was  there.  He 
would  not  cross  the  threshold  of  that  house  again. 


GUILT   AND    EXPIATION.  331 

He  was  still  in  hopes  that  she  would  rue  a  resolution  which 
he  clearly  foresaw  would  be  fatal  to  her  reputation.  He  passed 
the  day  in  a  constant  tempest  of  perplexity,  hope,  and  fear. 
Already  he  had  tried  to  persuade  himself  that  her  continued 
silence  was  owing  to  her  return  to  her  husband,  and  her  proba- 
ble determination  to  stay  with  him,  when  he  received  from  her 
a  note  in  which  she  requested  him  to  come  to  her.  She 
begged  him  not  to  object  to  her  invitation  on  account  of  its 
being  written  at  her  husband's  house  ;  she  would  remain  there, 
but  he  would  henceforth  reach  her  rooms  by  another  door, 
inasmuch  as  she  had  taken  possession  of  the  house  which  be- 
longed  to  her,  and  had  granted  to  M.  de  Stael  a  suite  of  rooms, 
where  he  would  now  live  entirely  by  himself  and  be  his  own 
master. 

Constant,  agitated  by  conflicting  emotions,  hastened  to  com- 
ply with  her  request.  He  could  not  upbraid  her  for  what  she 
had  done.  He  felt  that  she  was  making  sacrifices  for  which  he 
was  unable  to  indemnify  her ;  and  he  perceived  this  in  moments 
of  calmness,  the  more  as,  at  bottom,  she  had  good  cause  to  be 
dissatisfied  with  him.  What  other  woman  would  have  borne 
to  see  him  accept  the  sacrifices  which  she  made  to  him,  without 
offering  her  his  hand  and  the  protection  of  his  name  ?  He  felt, 
to  his  shame,  that  his  conduct  could  not  but  give  rise  to  the 
most  unpleasant  misconstructions. 

Although  her  separation  from  her  husband  was  by  no  means 
strange,  rumor  was  not  long  in  inventing  a  thousand  ridiculous 
stories  in  regard  to  the  cause  which  led  to  it.  Her  name  was 
soon  on  all  lips,  and  she  could  not  prevent  people  from  circu- 
lating the  most  unpleasant  rumors  about  her.  This  was  most 
painful  to  her  ambition  and  pride.  She  had  made  an  immense 
sacrifice,  and  was  not  even  allowed  to  complain  of  the  conse- 
quences, against  which  Constant  had  cautioned  her  so  elo- 


332  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

quently.  So  she  kept  silence  and  devoted  herself  to  politics 
and  to  the  interests  of  her  friend  even  more  zealously  and 
energetically  than  before. 

Marmontel  was  now  elected  to  the  Council  of  Ancients,  and 
therefore  returned  to  Paris. 

She  met  her  old  friend  in  visible  confusion.  "  You  must  not 
be  angry  with  me,"  she  said  to  him,  bursting  into  tears.  "  I 
have  need  of  some  one  who  shares  my  life,  and  whose  interests 
are  my  own.  (Test  ma  nature  ainsi.  I  cannot  walk  my  path 
alone.  Would  to  God  I  could !  But  I  cannot.  I  am  not  like 
other  women.  If  I  see  that  happiness  is  within  my  reach,  and 
I  am  not  to  enjoy  it  because  the  so-called  rules  of  decorum  for- 
bid me  to  do  so,  I  cannot  obey  them.  God  has  given  me  a 
heart  which  throbs  impetuously.  It  has  carried  me  away  to 
many  a  good  deed  which  I  had  to  perform  with  great  self- 
abnegation  ;  and  if  it  now  for  once  urges  me  to  do  something 
gratifying  to  myself,  I  must  yield  to  it  likewise." 

Marmontel  folded  her  to  his  heart  with  paternal  tenderness. 
"  I  pity  you,"  he  said,  "  but  I  do  not  censure  you.  Those 
whose  emotions  are  powerful,  will  every  now  and  then  slightly 
overstep  the  rules  of  decorum.  Let  them  be  called  to  account 
for  it  by  Him  who  gave  them  such  a  nature." 

No  less  unexpectedly  than  Marmontel  had  been  called  into 
the  Council  of  Ancients,  he  saw  that  body  dissolved,  and  him- 
self sent  back  to  St.  Brice,  where  he  died  soon  after. 

Moreau  commanded  the  army  of  the  Rhine  at  this  juncture ; 
Bonaparte  was  at  the  head  of  the  French  troops  in  Italy;  and 
Madame  de  Stael  watched  attentively  the  glorious  career  of  the 
two  young  heroes.  The  free  press  took  pains  to  lay  all  the 
news  from  the  seat  of  war  before  the  public,  and  there  was  so 
much  stirring  intelligence  to  relate  and  read  that  the  daya 
were  not  lon£  enough  for  doing  so. 


GUILT   AND   EXPIATION.  333 

Constant  had  become  a  member  of  the  Salrn  Club,  which  op- 
posed the  Directory.  He  was  soon  after  elected  Secretary  of 
this  Club,  in  which,  by  the  aid  of  Madame  de  Stael,  he  was  all- 
powerful.  She  was  now  desirous  of  procuring  Talleyrand, 
too,  a  position  suitable  to  his  talents,  and  by  their  joint  efforts 
he  obtained  the  appointment  of  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs. 
In  return,  he  wished  to  recommend  Constant  to  Bonaparte. 
But  Bonaparte  was  already  prejudiced  against  him,  owing  to 
his  speeches  in  the  Salin  Club,  where  he  had  inveighed  with 
brilliant  eloquence  against  all  hereditary  privileges,  and  gen- 
erally assumed  a  tone  which  seemed  objectionable  to  the  fu- 
ture of  France,  and  caused  him  to  decline  his  services. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MADAME  DE  MONTE9SON. 

MADAME  DE  MONTESSON,  who  had  been  secretly  married  to 
the  Duke  of  Orleans,  received  at  her  house  in  the  Rue  Mont 
Blanc,  on  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Provence,  a  circle  of  the 
most  eminent  Parisians,  among  whom  was  also  M.  de  Talley- 
rand. Here  he  formed  the  acquaintance  of  Josephine  Beau- 
harnais,  and  conceived  the  plan  of  bringing  about  a  union 
between  her  and  the  General-in-Chief  of  the  army  of  Italy. 

Madame  de  Stael  had  long  since  ardently  admired  the  young 
hero,  and  longed  to  get  acquainted  with  him.  At  Madame  de 
Montesson's  house  she  had  at  last  an  opportunity  to  do  so. 

Talleyrand  had  informed  her  that  she  would  meet  him  there 
on  a  certain  evening,  and  she  did  not  fail  to  be  present  on  that 
occasion.  Easily  excited  by  every  new  acquaintance  she 
made,  especially  when,  as  on  this  occasion,  she  was  swayed  by 
her  imagination,  which  depicted  the  young  hero  in  the  most 
glowing  colors  to  her,  she  looked  in  breathless  suspense  for- 
ward to  the  moment  of  his  arrival. 

She  had  chosen  a  very  simple  toilet,  because  she  had  been 
told  that  the  General  disliked  too  gorgeously  dressed  women. 
She  wore  a  white  satin  dress,  beautifully  trimmed  with  lace; 
her  arms  and  neck  bare,  and  red-velvet  ribbon  studded  with 
pearls  wound  round  her  short  and  curly  hair. 

"  How  beautifully  you  are  dressed ! "  said  Talleyrand,  gaz- 


MADAME    DE   MONTESSO^.  335 

ing  at  her  admiringly.  "Would  I  could  think  you  had  done 
so  for  me ! " 

"  Oh,  you  do  not  wish  it,  Talleyrand.  Such  an  aMen'ion 
would  only  embarrass  you.  Your  heart  is  by  far  too  large  to 
be  a  suitable  present  for  one  lady." 

"  You  know  that  there  are  so  many  amiable  ladies  that  I 
cannot  bestow  my  exclusive  admiration  upon  one  of  them," 
he  replied,  with  a  polite  smile  toward  the  other  ladies. 

"  Suppose  we  were  at  sea,  and  should  be  shipwrecked ;  to 
which  lady  would  you  offer  your  hand  at  the  moment  of  danger, 
in  order  to  save  her  ? " 

"  Not  to  you,  car  wus  nayez  si  Men,  Madame." 

An  answer  of  this  description  enchanted  Madame  de  Stael. 
She  admired  this  skill  of  getting  so  advantageously  out  of  a 
difficulty,  the  more  as  she  was  deficient  in  it.  Persons  who 
speak  much  and  well,  and  like  to  hear  themselves,  never  are 
noted  for  skill  at  repartee. 

"  You  are  irresistible  whenever  you  wish  to  be  so,"  she  said, 
taking  his  arm  in  order  to  pace  the  not  very  large  room  till 
Bonaparte's  arrival.  It  was  long  after  midnight  when  he  en- 
tered  the  room.  Madame  de  Stael  watched  him  attentively 
while  he  paid  his  respects  to  Madame  de  Montesson.  Her  ima- 
gination had  drawn  a  widely  different  portrait  of  the  young 
hero,  and  she  had  now  to  recover  from  her  surprise  before  she 
was  able  to  meet  him  with  composure.  She  had  fancied  that 
he  was  much  taller.  His  somewhat  awkward  and  embarrassed 
bearing  made  an  unfavorable  impression  in  a  salon.  He  lis- 
tened to  the  polite  welcome  of  Madame  de  Montesson  with  an 
air  of  superiority  which  displeased  her.  He  was  at  home  only 
on  the  battle-field. 

Many  persons  thronged  around  him  already.  Talleyrand, 
disengaging  himself  from  Madame  de  Stael's  arm,  approached 


336  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

Bonaparte  and  whispered  to  him  that  Necker's  daughter  wished 
to  get  acquainted  with  him. 

"Je  riaiinepas  lesfemmes  qui  se  melent  de  politique"  he  said, 
briefly. 

"  Well,  in  a  country  where  their  heads  are  cut  off,  they  like 
to  know  the  reason  why  it  is  done,"  replied  Talleyrand,  smil- 
ing. 

Bonaparte  then  allowed  him  to  conduct  him  to  her. 

Madame  de  Stael  had  overheard  his  words.  Instead  of  meet- 
ing with  admiration  at  his  hand,  she  found  that  he  was  preju- 
diced against  her.  This  vexed  her. 

He  said  to  her  that  he  was  very  sorry  not  to  have  formed 
her  father's  acquaintance  during  his  journey,  although  he  had 
gone  to  Coppet  in  order  to  pay  him  a  visit.  M.  Necker  had 
not  been  at  home. 

She  replied  to  him  without  much  presence  of  mind.  All 
that  she  had  intended  to  say  to  him  had  vanished  from  her 
memory  as  soon  as  she  discovered  that  he  would  never  admire, 
never  love  her.  This  discovery  plunged  her  soul  into  the 
deepest  gloom.  She  could  not  appear  otherwise  than  she  was  ; 
and  if  he  refused  to  pay  homage  to  her  gifted  mind,  she  felt 
full  well  that  their  meeting  could  not  but  make  a  painful  im- 
pression upon  each  of  them. 

Thus  she  foresaw  their  mutual  relations  from  the  very  first, 
and  henceforth  she  opposed,  with  Constant,  his  progress  toward 
a  position  which  was  to  destroy  the  whole  structure  of  her 
ardent  hopes. 

She  soon  after  saw  the  day  when  the  word  Citoyen,  which 
she  still  regarded  as  an  expression  of  the  acknowledged  rights 
of  man,  wras  changed  into  the  humiliating  term  Subjects;  she 
saw  that,  despite  all  the  thundering  speeches  of  her  protege, 
the  rights  of  birth  were  reinstated  in  their  former  importance ; 


MADAME   DE    MONTESSON.  337 

she  had  to  follow  the  nation  step  by  step  to  the  old  regime;, 
and  the  only  reward  which  she  received  for  her  sacrifices  and 
efforts  to  oppose  this  reactionary  movement,  was  persecution, 
and  finally  exile  from  a  city  which  was  vital  to  her  existence. 
At  a  distance  from  Paris  she  merely  vegetated,  and  her  tears 
flowed  constantly  during  the  slow  and  tedious  days. 

Madame  de  Stael  now  met  Bonaparte  frequently  in  society, 
while  he  was  preparing  for  his  expedition  to  Egypt;  but  she 
no  longer  sought  to  approach  him.  She  was  already  afraid  of 
him.  The  laconic  questions  which  he  always  propounded  to 
those  with  whom  he  conversed,  were  distasteful  to  her.  She 
called  this  peculiarity  of  his  a  "  vocation  naturelle  pour  Vetat  de 
prince"  and  deemed  it  contrary  to  good  breeding  to  ask  of  others 
information  about  their  affairs,  which  they  did  not  offer  of 
their  own  accord.  "  Are  you  married  ?  "  "  How  many  chil- 
dren have  you  ?  "  "  When  did  you  arrive  ?  "  "  When  are  you 
going  to  leave  ?  "  Who  had  a  right  to  address  a  citizen  of  the 
republic  in  this  manner? 

She  censured  Talleyrand  for  not  calling  his  attention  to  the 
fact  that  his  conduct  was  impertinent;  but  he  escaped  her,  as 
usual,  by  a  witty  phrase. 

The  world  had  ceased  noticing  the  fact  that  M.  de  Stael  did 
not  appear  any  longer  in  the  apartments  of  his  wife,  and  Ben- 
jamin Constant  met  no  more  with  reproaches  and  allusions 
which  were  indescribably  painful  to  him. 

Switzerland  being  threatened  with  invasion,  Madame  de  Stael 
left  Paris  in  January,  1798,  and  hastened  to  Coppet.  Her 
father's  name  was  still  on  the  list  of  French  exiles,  and  in 
case  one  of  these  exiles  was  apprehended  in  a  country  occu- 
pied by  French  troops,  his  life  was  forfeited. 

She  tried  to  persuade  Necker  to  leave  Coppet,  but  he  refused 
to  do  so. 


338  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

"  At  my  age,"  he  said,  "  one  must  not  wander  about  the 
world." 

He  would  not  leave  his  wife's  tomb.  As  she  had  never  left 
him  during  her  lifetime,  so  he  wished  to  remain  near  her  in 
death. 

It  was  a  fine  morning  in  midwinter  when  they  were  in- 
formed that  the  French  were  approaching.  Madame  de  Stael 
and  her  father  stepped  out  upon  the  balcony  of  the  chateau, 
where  they  surveyed  the  long  alley,  and  awaited  the  arrival  of 
the  troops.  The  air  was  so  pure,  the  sky  so  blue,  the  water  of 
the  lake  so  transparent,  that  the  lofty  summits  of  the  Alps  were 
reflected  in  it.  The  sound  of  the  drums  fell  on  their  ears  from 
afar,  and  filled  Madame  de  Stael  with  anxiety  for  her  father's 
life. 

At  the  moment  when  the  French  troops  crossed  the  frontier, 
she  noticed  that  an  officer  left  the  ranks  and  rode  toward  the 
chttteau.  She  awaited  his  arrival  tremblingly. 

The  Directory  had  commissioned  him  to  inform  M.  Necker 
that  a  safeguard  had  been  granted  to  him.  The  bearer  of  this 
news  was  Suchet,  who  afterwards  became  a  Marshal  of  the 
Empire,  and  who  performed  his  mission  in  the  most  courteous 
and  pleasant  manner. 

Madame  de  Stael  was  now  reassured  as  to  her  father's  fate ; 
but  she  watched  the  course  of  events  in  Switzerland  with 
incessant  anxiety.  The  first  battle  took  place  soon  after. 
Although  Coppet  is  thirty  leagues  from  Berne,  the  echoes  of  the 
distant  mountains  wafted  the  roar  of  artillery  over  to  them 
and  struck  terror  into  her  heart.  She  scarcely  dared  to  breathe 
while  the  struggle  continued,  and  Necker  suffered  even  more 
than  his  daughter  from  this  war,  which  France,  his  adopted 
country,  waged  against  his  small  fatherland.  The  French 
were  able  to  drive  back  the  Swiss  forces,  but  they  could  not 


MADAIVIE    DE    MONTESSON".  339 

conquer  Switzerland  ;  for  the  will  of  a  united  people,  no  mat- 
ter how  small  it  may  be,  renders  it  invincible. 

On  the  famous  18th  of  Brumaire  she  returned  to  Paris. 
While  her  horses  were  changed  at  the  last  station,  she  was 
told  that  Barras,  escorted  by  gcnsd'armes,  had  just  passed  by 
on  his  wray  to  his  villa  at  Grosbois.  All  along  the  road  she  no 
longer  heard  the  people  speak  of  the  National  Assembly,  but 
only  of  Bonaparte. 

Scarcely  had  she  reached  the  house  when  Benjamin  Con- 
stant entered  her  room. 

"  Our  cause  is  lost!"  he  said,  sitting  down  in  front  of  hei 
with  a  desponding  air.  "  This  Corsican  is  master  of  the  situ- 
ation." 

"  At  the  first  moment  already  you  speak  to  me  de  ce  petit 
Tiommef"  she  asked,  deeply  mortified. 

"I  know  that  you  love  your  country  better  than  yourself  and 
me,"  he  said,  in  confusion. 

"  Still  it  would  not  have  offended  me  if  you  had  forgotten 
France  for  my  sake  for  a  moment,"  she  replied,  reproachfully. 

After  regaining  her  composure,  she  begged  him  to  commu- 
nicate to  her  all  that  had  happened,  and  now  almost  regretted 
having  stayed  so  long  at  Coppet,  believing  as  she  did  that  her 
presence  might  have  prevented  much  mischief. 

"  We  shall  have  to  bow  to  the  dictator's  power,"  he  said, 
"  or  share  the  fate  of  Barras." 

A  shudder  ran  through  Madame  de  Stael's  frame  at  the" 
mere  thought  The  phantom  of  ennui,  which  always  pur- 
sued her,  rose  before  her  more  terrible  than  ever.  Neverthe- 
less, she  felt  that  she  must  not  and  could  not  prove  faithless  to 
the  cause  of  humanity,  and  must  defend  the  Droit  de  V7ioinme  to 
her  last  breath.  In  this  spirit  she  now  spoke  to  Constant,  and 
the  lofty  and  noble  enthusiasm  which  she  breathed,  fascinated 


340  MADAME   1)E   STAEL. 

him  again  as  irresistibly  as  ever.  His  heart  belonged  to  M'lle 
de  Hardenberg ;  but  his  head  loved  and  admired  Madame  de 
Stael. 

While  Bonaparte's  power  became  daily  more  unlimited,  and 
while  his  heroic  deeds  captivated  the  imagination  and  dazzled 
the  judgment  of  the  people  more  and  more,  the  opposition  re- 
doubled its  efforts  to  conjure  up  a  counter-revolution,  and  to 
depict  in  glowing  colors  the  dangers  threatening  the  cause  of 
liberty. 

The  mouth-piece  of  this  party  was  Benjamin  Constant;  the 
spirit  animating  his  speeches  was  that  of  Madame  de  Stael. 

He  published  a  history  of  the  Revolution  of  1660,  which 
gave  great  umbrage  to  Bonaparte  and  his  adherents.  He  pre- 
pared, furthermore,  a  speech,  which  was  to  depict  the  dawn  of 
the  new  despotism.  This  subject  was  in  consonance  with  the 
views  of  his  gifted  friend,  and  although  she  was  well  aware  of 
the  dangers  which  might  arise  for  her  from  this  significant 
manifestation,  she  was  determined  not  to  deprive  her  protege 
of  this  brilliant  triumph  for  the  sake  of  her  own  safety. 

For  some  time  past  she  had  been  acquainted  with  Joseph 
and  Lucien  Bonaparte.  The  former  was  even  warmly  at- 
tached to  her;  he  did  not  share  his  brother's  prejudice 
against  gifted  women  ;  her  views  about  liberty  and  the  rights 
of  man  were  not  at  variance  with  his  opinions  and  schemes  ; 
so  he  gladly  yielded  to  the  charm  of  her  conversation,  and 
passed  the  most  agreeable  hours  at  her  house. 

Meanwhile,  the  day  when  Benjamin  Constant  was  to  deliver 
his  speech,  was  drawing  nigh.  On  the  eve  of  this  important 
demonstration,  Madame  de  Stael  had  gathered  around  her  a 
circle  of  friends,  most  of  whom,  tired  as  they  were  of  political 
convulsions  and  of  persecution,  were  ready  to  acquiesce  m 
any  measures  of  the  Government,  provided  it  did  not  disturb 


MADAME   DE   MONTESSON.  341 

them  any  more.  They  were  engaged  in  the  most  pleasant  and 
animated  conversation,  which  the  lady  of  the  house  illuminated 
with  the  incessant  coruscations  of  her  genius. 

Constant  gazed  musingly  upon  the  company.  He  fixed  hig 
eyes  thoughtfully  on  his  fair  friend,  who  chatted  so  gayly  and 
looked  so  serene,  as  he  had  not  seen  her  for  a  long  time  past. 

Suddenly  he  rose,  approached  her,  and  whispered  in  her 
ear  : 

"  Look  at  this  circle  of  eminent  men  now  gracing  your  salon; 
when  I  have  delivered  my  speech,  all  of  them  will  desert  you ; 
do  not  forget  that." 

"  I  cannot  be  recreant  to  my  convictions,"  she  said,  in  her 
enthusiasm  for  the  good  cause,  which  she  thought  she  was  pro- 
moting. To  an  uncertain  success  she  was  ready  to  sacrifice 
her  own  existence,  but  only  because  she  had  miscalculated  the 
consequences  of  this  step.  But  no  one  is  able  to  swim  alone 
against  the  tide  without  becoming  a  martyr  to  his  cause. 

She  threw  down  the  gauntlet  to  Bonaparte,  and  he  took 
it  up. 

Benjamin  Constant  delivered  his  speech. 

Madame  de  Stael  had  invited  a  few  friends  to  dinner  on  that 
day.  When  the  clock  struck  five,  one  of  the  guests  sent  her  a 
note,  excusing  his  inability  to  be  present ;  another  note  of  the 
same  tenor  arrived  a  few  minutes  after,  and  finally  no  one  re- 
mained to  share  her  dinner  but  Constant  himself. 

They  sat  opposite  to  one  another  in  silence. 

Despite  her  efforts  to  conceal  her  vexation,  she  was  unable 
to  do  so  ;  but  she  felt  that  she  would  not  be  justified  in  vent- 
ing her  disappointment  on  her  protege. 

Joseph  Bonaparte  was  severely  rebuked  by  his  brother  for 
visiting  the  house  of  a  woman  animated  by  such  sentiments. 
Since  that  time  he  no  longer  ventured  to  appear  at  her  house, 


342  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

and  his  example  was  generally  imitated.  Even  those  who 
had  hitherto  shared  her  opinions,  now  denounced  her  loudly, 
and  disapproved  what  they  had  formerly  advocated.  She  was 
severely  censured  for  having  assisted  Talleyrand  in  obtaining 
a  seat  in  the  cabinet ;  and  yet  the  same  men  who  blamed  her 
on  this  account,  flocked  to  Talleyrand's  house  and  praised 
every  step  he  took. 

This  inconsistency  gave  much  pain  to  Madame  de  Stael. 
For  the  first  time  she  now  experienced  a  feeling  of  bitterness 
which  had  never  stolen  upon  her  before.  It  was  not  fate,  but 
the  injustice  of  men  that  gave  rise  to  it. 

Owing  to  her  natural  and  almost  irresistible  communica- 
tiveness, she  had  the  utmost  difficulty  in  restraining  her  im- 
petuous feelings ;  and  the  consequence  of  this  was,  that  her 
intercourse  with  Benjamin  Constant  became  exceedingly 
painful.  Both  of  them  were  vexed  and  dejected,  and  silently 
charged  each  other  with  having  caused  their  misfortune,  with- 
out venturing  to  confess  it. 

Fouche,  the  Police  Minister,  sent  for  Madame  de  Stael  and 
informed  her  that  the  First  Consul  ascribed  Benjamin  Con- 
stant's speech  to  her.  He  had  no  proofs;  general  reflections 
on  the  liberty  and  rights  of  nations,  devoid  of  personal  allu- 
sions, were  no  crime. 

Such  was  her  reply ;  and  Fouche,  admitting  the  pertinency 

of  her  answer,  advised  her  to  leave  Paris  for  a  time,  in  order 

\ 
that  the  matter  might  be  forgotten. 

She  returned,  deeply  dejected,  to  her  house.  She  was  exiled, 
then — exiled  from  a  city  which  she  loved  so  dearly — exiled,  as 
it  were,  of  her  own  accord.  Deserted  by  her  friends,  and  ex- 
cluded from  society,  nothing  remained  for  her  but  to  flee  the 
place  where  her  feelings  wore  wounded  so  cruelly. 

She  paced  her  apartments  mournfully.     She  needed  not 


MADAME   DE   MONTESSON.  343 

to  shut  her  doors.    No  one  visited  her.     No  one  seemed  to 
care  for  her  any  longer.    No  one  desired  to  have  a  seat  at  her 

table. 

She  thought  she  had  followed  her  convictions,  and  yet  she 
did  not  feel  that  tranquillity  of  mind  proceeding  from  the 
consciousness  that  we  have  sacrificed  everything  to  our  prin- 
ciples. She  did  not  care  to  fathom  the  cause  of  her  present 
state  of  mind,  inasmuch  as  a  low,  low  voice,  in  all  probability 
whispered  that  she  had  this  time  set  her  heart  not  so  much 
upon  the  cause  alone  as  upon  its  representative,  and  that  her 
hatred  of  despotism  was  enhanced  by  the  fact  that  Bonaparte 
was  the  despot 

Her  hours  dragged  through  slowly  and  wearily.  She  longed 
to  arrive  at  some  resolution,  and  yet  she  was  unable  to  make 
up  her  mind.  She  was  waiting  for  Constant  in  order  to  con- 
sult with  him.  She  glanced  uneasily  at  the  clock.  Already 
the  hour  had  come  when  she  had  expected  him,  and  he  did 
not  make  his  appearance  yet.  What  detained  him  so  long 
to-day?  Did  he  intend  to  shun  her  likewise,  because  the 
others  had  deserted  her  ? 

At  this  moment  she  heard  the  footstep  of  a  man  in  the  ante- 
room.    She  listened.    It  was  not  that  of  Benjamin  Constant. 
Mathieu  de  Montmorency  entered  the  room. 
"  I  hear  that  you  are  in  trouble,  owing  to  Benjamin  Constant's 
speech,"  he  said,  "  and  want  to  inquire  how  you  are." 

"  So  you  are  not  afraid  of  visiting  her  whom  all  the  rest  of 
her  friends  have  deserted?"  she  exclaimed,  with  streaming 
eyes;  and,  already  relieved  by  the  sympathy  of  this  faithful 
friend  of  hers,  she  told  him  what  had  occurred. 
He  listened  to  her  calmly,  until  she  was  through. 
Although  he  no  longer  shared  her  views,  nor  approved  her 
conduct,  he  was  still  able  to  sympathize  with  her  feelings  and 


,344  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

pity  her.  He  had  not  been  at  liberty  to  offer  her  his  hand. 
Had  he  been  able  to  do  so,  how  different  her  fate  would  have 
been !  Conscious  as  he  was  of  this  fact,  he  never  uttered  a 
word  of  censure  against  her,  and  he  never  proved  recreant  to 
the  faithful  friendship  which  he  had  once  pledged  to  her. 

He  now  tried  to  sooth  her  and  to  convince  her  that  the  dis- 
pleasure with  which  the  First  Consul  looked  upon  her  would 
be  certain  to  pass  away  in  a  short  time. 

"  Accompany  me  to  my  estate  for  a  few  weeks,"  he  said ; 
"  meanwhile  the  storm  will  blow  over,  and  you  will  return  to 
Paris  with  fresh  hopes  and  courage." 

She  looked  at  him  in  deep  emotion.  With  such  a  friend  life 
was  still  beautiful.  His  very  presence  would  comfort  her,  and 
the  thought  that  she  was  not  utterly  alone,  gave  her  fresh 
strength.  She  accepted  his  offer. 

When  he  had  left  her,  Constant  arrived  at  last.  He  was  in 
a  high  state  of  irritation.  That  a  woman  should  be  held  re- 
sponsible for  his  actions,  vexed  him  greatly;  that  she  was  con- 
sidered dangerous,  while  no  notice  was  taken  of  him,  as  if  he 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  whole  affair,  wounded  his  vanity. 
He  expressed  his  mortification  in  bitter  terms,  without  consid- 
ering that  in  so  doing  he  poured  poison  into  an  open  wound. 

Madame  de  Stael,  deadly  pale  and  panting  for  breath,  strode 
up  and  down  the  room  while  he  uttered  his  long  and  bitter 
tirade.  Finally  she  paused,  and  stood  still  in  front  of  him. 
Her  eyes  shot  fire  as  she  fixed  them  on  him.  She  then  repre- 
sented to  him  in  a  torrent  of  words  the  cruelty  of  his  conduct 
in  wounding  by  harsh  words  a  woman  unhappy  enough  with- 
out his  reproaches,  and  to  treat  with  such  base  ingratitude  her 
who  was  devoting  her  whole  life  to  him,  and  making  to  him 
eveiy  sacrifice  conducive  to  his  happiness.  In  her  rage  she 
upbraided  him,  for  the  first  time,  with  the  unmanliness  of  his 


MADAME   DE   MONTESSON.  345 

conduct;  she  portrayed  him  in  his  indecision,  his  weakness ; 
and  told  him  that  for  his  sake  she  had  broken  with  her  hus- 
band and  tarnished  her  reputation,  when  he  had  been  able  to 
keep  her  honor  unsullied. 

He  was  unable  to  deny  the  truth  of  these  charges,  and,  like 
all  wrong-doers,  he  defended  himself  by  preferring  against  her 
counter-charges,  which  she  indignantly  repelled  because  they 
were  groundless.  Both  of  them  grew  moie  and  more  excited, 
and  they  used  constantly  more  scathing  and  bitter  language 
in  giving  vent  to  their  hatred ;  this  time  a  speedy  reconcilia- 
tion was  out  of  the  question.  Hour  after  hour  passed  in  this 
useless  quarrel ;  and  Benjamin  Constant,  tired  of  the  endless 
altercation,  hastened  from  the  room,  and  rushed  wildly  into 
the  street.  Madame  de  Stael  fainted  as  he  closed  the  door 
after  him. 

No  sooner  had  he  reached  his  room,  and  was  alone  with 
himself,  then  he  regretted  what  he  had  done.  He  was  at  a  loss 
to  comprehend  his  own  conduct.  He  tried  to  find  reasons  for 
justifying  himself  in  his  own  eyes.  The  hours  of  the  night 
slowly  dragged  through  as  he  was  doing  so.  He  was  up  be- 
times in  the  morning,  and  immediately  went  to  her  house,  the 
doors  of  which  were  still  locked.  A  walk  through  the  streets, 
he  thought,  would  refresh  him,  and  give  him  courage  to  ap- 
pear before  her.  After  an  hour's  lonely  promenade,  he  was 
again  at  the  street-door  of  her  house. 

The  porter  looked  at  him  with  surprise.  "  Madame  de  Stael 
has  left  Paris,"  he  said,  wondering  at  Constant's  ignorance  of 
her  departure. 

"Left  Paris!"  echoed  Constant,  pressing  his  hand  to  his 
forehead,  as  if  he  had  to  compose  himself  in  order  to  under- 
stand these  words. 


CHAPTER   VII, 

PAKIS  IN  THE  TEAR  1800. 

THE  civilized  world  greeted  the  new  century  with  eager 
expectations.  At  its  beginning,  mankind  had  reached  a  turn- 
ing-point of  history,  and  strove  for  aims  never  known  before. 
The  intellectual  development  of  the  nations  of  Europe  had 
made  immense  progress  in  the  last  fifty  years.  German  phil- 
osophy imbued  all  minds  with  the  idea  of  the  perfectibility 
of  the  human  race,  and  thereby  gave  a  new  stimulus  to  the 
faculties  of  the  soul.  The  word  "  perfectibility,"  which  had 
hitherto  not  been  used,  was  now  added  to  the  language  to 
denote  this  idea. 

France  had  dreamed  all  its  political  dreams.  The  ardent 
love  of  liberty  had  disappeared,  tranquillity  and  moderation 
took  its  place,  and  the  soil  which  had  been  drenched  in  blood 
pushed  out  new  shoots.  A  longing  for  enjoyment  rose  in  all 
minds.  Art  and  science  awoke  from  their  slumbers,  and  litera- 
ture began  to  shoot  out  new  buds  and  blossoms. 

Goethe  had  written  his  Werther.  All  Paris  papers  be- 
Btowecl  the  most  enthusiastic  encomiums  on  this  singular  pro- 
duction of  a  great  genius,  and  the  public  commenced  taking 
the  liveliest  interest  in  German  affairs.  The  sorrows  of  young 
Werther  filled  young  France  with  deep  emotion  and  ardent 
enthusiasm,  and  tempted  many  an  unhappy  youth  to  go  in 
search  of  similar  misfortunes,  and  make  real  or  imaginary  sor- 
rows the  destiny  of  his  life. 


PARIS  -'IK  THE   TEAR  1800.  347 

Schiller's  Robbers  had  been  performed  at  all  theaters,  and  it 
became  fashionable  to  carry  both  virtues  and  vices  to  extreme 
length.  This  enthusiasm  of  the  public  never  thought  of  the 
consequences ;  it  feasted  its  soul  on  fine  words.  Watten- 
stein  was  already  being  rehearsed  at  the  Berlin  theater. 

Frederick  von  Gentz  issued  his  Report  on  the  finances  of 
Great  Britain,  and  the  Journal  de  Pans  never  tired  of  com- 
menting on  this  curious  and  interesting  work. 

Madame  de  Stael  had  watched  this  revival  of  literature  with 
the  liveliest  interest  in  the  solitude  of  Coppet.  It  was,  at  bot- 
tom, the  most  essential  element  of  her  life.  She  had  grown 
up  under  its  influence,  her  childhood  had  drawn  most  of  its 
nourishment  from  its  blossoms ;  so  she  could  no  longer  exist 
without  that  to  which  she  had  been  accustomed  so  long,  and 
she  deemed  life  dull  and  vapid  without  this  intellectual  fra- 
grance. 

Bitter  disappointments  had  bowed  her  courage  and  weighed 
down  her  heart,  and  in  her  present  state  of  mind  she  derived 
consolation  and  exhileration  only  from  literary  employment. 
She  wrote  and  read  a  great  deal.  At  the  beginning  of  the  new- 
year  she  intended  to  publish  her  production,  and  was  now  pol- 
ishing and  revising  her  book  for  the  last  time  before  sending  it 
to  the  printer— the  authors  of  the  eighteenth  century  having 
taught  her  that  the  style  of  a  writer  will  alone  impart  a  true 
and  lasting  value  to  his  works. 

She  had  chosen  a  grave  subject.  She  treated  of  the  progress 
of  mankind  in  the  realm  of  the  mind,  as  manifested  in  the  pro- 
ductions of  literature ;  and  she  inferred  from  these  manifesta- 
tions of  progress  that  the  Creator  intended  that  the  human 
mind  should  become  perfect,  and  that  it  was  incumbent  on  all 
men  to  strive  to  attain  that  object;  in  a  word,  she  discussed 
the  question  of  perfectibility.  She  had  entered  upon  her 


348  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

task  with  ardent  courage,  in  order  to  strengthen  her  mind 
and  cure  herself  of  her  gloomy  despondency.  Since  Parisian 
society  had  deserted  her  so  cruelly,  she  was  animated  by  a  bit- 
terness painful  to  herself;  for,  according  to  her  nature,  she 
could  entertain  only  feelings  of  kindness  and  generosity  to- 
ward her  fellow-creatures,  and  try  to  win  their  love;  but  this 
love,  she  now  asked  herself— what  was  it?  What  had  it 
proved  to  be  in  her  case  ?  How  they  had  applauded  and  flat- 
tered her ;  how  they  had  praised  her  talents ;  and  yet,  at  a 
beck  from  the  First  Consul,  they  had  deserted  her  and  passed 
her  as  if  they  had  never  known  her ! 

So  friendship  and  love  were  mere  words ;  for  men  could 
hardly  sacrifice  so  readily  what  they  really  esteemed  and  ad- 
mired. How  they  could  boldly  exhibit  the  weakness  of  such 
perfidy,  was  an  enigma  to  her. 

She  had  not  profited  by  her  father's  experience  in  regard  to 
the  fickleness  of  public  opinion  and  popular  favor ;  for  every 
one  believes  only  in  what  he  has  experienced  himself. 

In  these  days  of  severe  trials,  Mathieu  de  Montmorency  tried 
to  soothe  her  by  the  influence  of  religion.  She  was  to  re- 
cognize the  finger  of  God  in  everything,  and  bow  to  him  in  de- 
vout humility ;  she  was  to  perceive  how  immaterial  it  was  to 
be  appreciated  by  men,  when  one  was  sure  of  his  love.  She 
listened  to  his  words ;  she  smiled  at  him  gratefully  when  he  took 
pains  to  point  out  to  her  the  path  in  which  his  own  mind  had 
found  peace ;  but  she  did  not  act,  upon  his  suggestions.  Life 
still  knocked  so  impetuously  at  her  doors,  that  she  was  unable 
to  appreciate  the  blessing  of  resignation.  She  could  not  bring 
herself  to  submit  to  suffering  as  a  salutary  trial ;  she  desired 
to  be  happy  in  accordance  with  her  innate  qualities,  and  said 
it  was  the  Creator's  intention  that  man  should  be  happy. 

Her  sojourn  at  Coppet,  lirr  intercourse  with  her  father,  and 


PARIS   IN   THE   YEAR   1800.  349 

the  joy  which  her  children  afforded  her,  did  not  tranquilize  hei 
mind.  The  thought  of  the  humiliation  which  she  had  suifered, 
drew  from  her  every  morning  new  murmurs  and  complaints, 
and  moistened  her  eyes  with  new  tears  which  her  wounded 
heart  caused  her  to  shed.  She  could  not  reconcile  herself  to 
the  idea  that  she  had  been  deserted  and  treated  so  ignomin- 
iously.  She  asked  herself  again  and  again  if  it  was  true, 
or  if  some  dismal  dream  had  not  deluded  her ;  and,  whenever 
her  mind  replied  in  the  affirmative,  she  would  wring  her  hands 
despairingly. 

This  thought  was  upon  her  all  the  time.  No  matter  where 
she  was,  it  did  not  leave  her ;  and  an  imperative  voice  in  her 
breast  commanded  her  to  reconquer  her  position  in  society. 
Necker  grieved  profoundly  at  his  daughter's  despondency,  and 
vainly  tried  to  cheer  her  up.  What  was  to  be  done  about  it? 
How  could  he  help  her  ? 

Benjamin  Constant  had  not  been  able  to  bear  the  separation 
from  her  a  long  time.  With  his  usual  weakness,  he  had  fol- 
lowed her.  She  received  him  coldly.  His  words  of  repentance, 
his  protestations,  to  which  his  conscience  gave  the  lie,  misled 
her,  and  she  forgave  him  ;  for  what  the  heart  wishes,  it  is  al- 
ways ready  and  willing  to  believe. 

Besides,  she  felt  so  lonely;  she  needed  so  much  to  have  with 
her  a  man  whom  she  could  influence :  who  became,  as  it  were, 
the  instrument  of  her  dreams  in  regard  to  the  future,  and  with 
whom  she  could  dream,  hope,  and  wish.  So  she  was  glad  that 
he  had  returned  to  her. 

His  position  as  Secretary  of  the  Constitutional  Club,  however, 
did  not  permit  him  to  stay  away  from  Paris  a  long  time ;  he 
had  entered  upon  his  political  career  there,  had  become  a  pop- 
ular orator,  and  could  not  now,  by  a  prolonged  absence  from 
the  capital,  risk  all  he  had  gained  thus  far.  So  he  proposed 


350  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

to  her  to  return  with  him  to  Paris.  She  could  easily  recover 
her  position  in  society ;  all  she  would  have  to  do  for  this  pur- 
pose would  be  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation  withM.  de  Stael, 
and  the  wife  of  the  Swedish  Embassador  would  stand  again  in 
the  midst  of  the  best  society. 

It  was  generally  known  in,  Paris  that  M.  de  Stael  was  pressed 
by  his  creditors,  and  frequently  very  hard  run  for  money. 
Formerly,  he  had  been  at  liberty  to  refer  his  creditors  to  his 
wealthy  father-in-law,  and  got  rid  of  the  importunate  duns 
by  telling  them. that  M.  Necker  would  pay  them ;  but  since  he 
had  separated  from  his  wife,  he  was  no  longer  allowed  to  do  so. 
No  one  would  trust  him  any  more,  and  the  consequence  was 
that  he  saw  the  splendor  and  comfort  of  his  household  pass 
away,  and  had  to  do  without  his  wonted  luxuries.  Nothing 
could  be  more  disagreeable  to  him,  and  it  was  more  than  prob- 
able that  he  would  gladly  grasp  the  hand  offered  him  for  re- 
conciliation. Why,  then,  should  Madame  de  Stael  not  offer  it 
to  him,  when  such  a  reconciliation  would  be  so  advantageous 
to  her,  and  enable  her  to  return  to  Paris,  where  she  longed  to 
live  ?  Why  should  she  not  pay  the  insignificant  price  of  a  first 
word  for  s5  great  an  advantage  ?  Why  not  recover  so  cheaply 
the  prominent  position  which  she  had  formerly  occupied  in 
Parisian  society? 

Benjamin  Constant  was  justified  under  the  circumstances  in 
supposing  that  conciliatory  steps  on  the  part  of  Madame  de 
Stael,  how  insignificant  soever  they  might  be,  would  be  most 
joyously  met  by  her  husband.  If  Madame  de  Stael  returned 
to  Paris  in  order  to  resume  her  place  as  Embassadress  of  Swe- 
den, the  First  Consul  was  obliged  to  receive  her  and  treat  her 
politely  ;  and  no  one  would  thenceforth  have  any  reason  to  shun 
her  house;  no  one  would  dare  to  offend  the  Embassador  of  a 
foreign  power  by  slighting  her. 


PARIS   IN  THE   YEAR  1800.  351 

He  wrote  her  a  long  letter  after  his  return  to  Paris,  and  laid 
all  these  arguments  before  her.  His  letter  closed  as  follows : 
"  The  laws  of  society  are  stronger  than  the  human  will.  The 
pride  of  independence  bows  in  the  long  run  to  stern  necessity 
and  to  circumstances.  It  is  for  us  to  determine  to  follow  only 
what  our  hearts  long  for ;  sooner  or  later  we  must,  nevertheless, 
comply  with  the  requirements  of  our  reason.  I  can  no  longer 
allow  you  to  occupy  toward  the  world  a  position  which  morti- 
fies me  in  your  soul,  and  which  is,  moreover,  a  silent  reproach 
against  me.  You  owe  it  to  me,  you  owe  it  to  yourself  to  put  an 
end  to  this  struggle." 

After  reading  these  lines,  she  threw  them  angrily  on  the  floor. 
She  thought  it  was  evident  that  he  did  not  wish  to  share  the 
humiliations  of  her  position. 

"  I  shall  put  an  end  to  this  struggle,  but  in  my  own  way,"  she 
said.  "  Never  shall  I  submit  to  the  humiliation  of  begging  of 
M.  de  Stael  a  position  which  I  once  threw  unhesitatingly  at  his 
feet.  Never  shall  I  do  so !  Never !  I  must  by  my  own  efforts 
recover  the  place  of  which  a  word  from  the  First  Consul  de- 
prived me.  Paris  once  admired  me ;  it  bowed  before  the  sound 
of  my  name.  It  shall  be  subjected  again  to  the  same  charm. 
I  am  too  old  to  bow  my  head  ;  I  am  too  old  to  adorn  myself 
with  borrowed  tinsel.  I  feel  my  worth  too  much  to  beg  for 
what  I  have  a  right  to  demand !  They  shall  admire  my  genius ; 
they  shall  pay  homage  to  me  again !  I  will  achieve  this  tri- 
umph or  none !  If  I  do  not  succeed  in  doing  so,  I  possess  less 
genius  than  I  believe  I  do,  and  I  deserve  to  disappear  in  the 
multitude.  I  deserve  to  be  overlooked." 

After  this  soliloquy,  she  hastened  to  her  writing-table  and 
worked  with  redoubled  energy  at  the  book  by  which  she  in- 
tended to  obtain  this  triumph.  The  winter  drew  to  a  close 
before  her  work  was  completed. 


352  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1800,  she  suddenly  returned  to  Paris, 
it  was  said  in  order  to  superintend  the  publication  of  her 
book.  She  made  no  calls  after  her  arrival.  She  remained  at 
home  all  the  time,  and  anxiously  looked  forward  to  the  day 
when  her  work  would  be  issued,  and  the  public  criticize  it. 

To  Benjamin  Constant  she  said  not  a  word  about  her  expec- 
tations ;  for  he,  too,  was  to  be  surprised  by  her  success,  like  the 
rest  of  her  former  friends.  Whenever  he  upbraided  her  for  dis- 
regarding his  advice,  she  smiled  and  shook  her  head  mournfully^ 

"Oh!  how  little  do  you  know  me,  Constant!"  she  said  to 
him.  "  How  little  are  you  able  to  appreciate  the  difference  be- 
tween the  conventional  respect  granted  us  for  the  sake  of  our 
official  position,  and  the  distinction  for  which  we  are  indebted 
to  our  personal  merit,  our  own  fame  and  talents.  I  am  sorry  to 
find  that  you  believe  the  former  would  satisfy  me." 

A  few  days  afterward,  Talleyrand  called  on  her.  She  asked 
him,  wonderiugly,  what  had  led  him  to  the  house  of  a  lady  that 
had  incurred  the  displeasure  of  his  master  to  such  a  degree  as 
to  drive  away  all  her  friends  ?  Those  swimming  with  the  tide 
should  not  show  themselves  at  her  house ;  so  she  could  not 
but  admire  his  courage." 

"  Extend  your  admiration  also  to  the  power  which  I  serve, 
and  we  shall  live  again  on  the  most  amicable  footing,"  he  said, 
•with  a  smile. 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  Had  he  perhaps  come  to  her 
only  in  order  to  suggest  this  prudent  course  to  her?  Had  Na- 
poleon sent  him  to  her?  She  told  him  she  would  not  bow  to 
that  power,  and  he  seemed  dissatisfied. 

On  the  following  day,  Joseph  Bonaparte  visited  her.  He 
held  in  his  hand  a  letter  from  his  brother,  which  he  handed  to 
her  with  an  air  of  embarrassment,  and  begged  her  to  read  in 
his  presence.  It  was  as  folio w«  . 


PARIS    IN   THE    TEAR   1800.  353 

"  March  19, 1800. 

'  "  M.  de  Stael,  I  have  been  told,  lives  in  abject  poverty,  while 
his  wife  enjoys  all  the  comforts  of  affluence.  If  you  should 
continue  to  visit  her  while  she  lives  in  Paris,  beg  her  to  grant 
that  poor  man  a  monthly  allowance  of  one  thousand  or  twelve 
hundred  francs.  What  a  pass  we  have  come  to  !  I  am  ready 
to  treat  Madame  de  Stael  as  a  man ;  but  in  that  case  she  should 
bear  in  mind  that  a  man  possessed  of  a  large  fortune  and  a  cele- 
brated name  is  not  at  liberty  to  let  his  wife  be  in  want,  and 
that  the  world  will  condemn  him  for  so  doing."  * 

A  deep  flush  of  anger  crimsoned  her  cheeks  as  she  glanced 
over  these  lines. 

"  Your  distinguished  brother  is  very  kind  to  take  so  much 
interest  in  my  private  affairs,"  she  said,  returning  the  letter  to 
him  with  a  sarcastic  smile.  "Pray  inform  him  that  the  King 
of  Sweden  pays  to  his  Embassador,  or,  if  he  does  not,  should 
pay  to  him,  a  sufficient  sum  for  living  decently,  provided  he 
knows  how  to  keep  his  expenses  within  reasonable  bounds ; 
and  I  am  sure  it  is  not  my  duty  to  pay  out  of  my  own  means 
for  festivals  in  which  I  do  not  take  part,  and  for  love  affairs 
which  are  a  disgrace  to  his  advanced  age.  For  the  rest,  I  am 
obliged  to  him  for  intending  to  treat  me  as  a  man  ;  as  no  one 
can  deny  that,  as  a  general  thing,  men  surpass  us  in  intellec- 
tual endowments,  it  certainly  flatters  me  to  be  placed  on  a  foot- 
ing of  equality  with  them.  That  I  have  remained  a  woman 
at  heart  shows  my  sensibility  to  malevolence  and  persecution, 
and  to  every  act  of  hostility  which  tells  me  how  much  need 
my  sex  has  of  support  and  protection.  But  if  my  talents  are 
equal  to  those  of  a  man,  it  must  not  be  inferred  that  M.  de 
Stael's  relations  to  me  are  those  of  a  woman— of  a  wife — and 

*  Memoirs  of  Joseph  Bonaparte. 


354  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

that  he  is  dependent  on  me  for  his  daily  bread.  Natural  rela- 
tions cannot  be  inverted  in  this  manner,  even  though  the  all- 
powerful  First  Consul  of  France  tries  to  shake  them." 

"  I  regret  my  brother's  irritation  toward  you,"  replied  Jo- 
seph, "  the  more  so  as  it  often  deprives  me  of  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you.  You  know  how  highly  I  esteem  you,  and  prize 
my  acquaintance  with  you.  In  order  not  to  incur  his  dis- 
pleasure, I  have  often  to  abstain  from  visiting  you,  lest  he 
should  forbid  me  to  call  on  you  at  all.  You  ought  to  be  kind 
and  friendly  enough  to  spare  me  this  pain.  You  ought  to 
think  of  your  friends,  and  bear  in  mind  how  much  they  suffer 
in  consequence  of  obstinacy." 

"  What  can  I  do,"  she  exclaimed,  vehemently.  "  It  is  my 
nature  to  be  truthful." 

"  Pursue  a  more  conciliatory  course.  Be  cautious  in  speak- 
ing of  him.  Make  about  him  some  flattering  remark  which 
will  be  reported  to  him,  and  which  will  neutralize  the  effect  of 
your  former  unfavorable  criticisms." 

"  Then  I  should  have  to  do  violence  to  my  convictions,  and 
I  cannot  do  that ;  I  should  be  untruthful." 

"  At  all  events  keep  silence." 

"  That  will  not  satisfy  him,  inasmuch  as  he  wants  me  to  ad- 
mire him,  and  I  cannot  do  so.  All  honor  to  his  military  skill, 
but  as  a  law-giver  and  ruler  of  France  he  is  distasteful  to  me." 

"  You  do  not  know  him.     Get  better  acquainted  with  him." 

"How  can  I  do  so  when  he  shuns  me,  and  purposely  avoids 
me  wherever  he  can? " 

"  We  shall  manage  to  bring  you  in  contact  with  him.  For 
the  sake  of  your  friends,  embrace  the  opportunity  to  bring 
about  a  reconciliation.  You  do  not  promote  the  interests  of 
France  by  expressing  your  dislike  of  my  brother,  and  you  in 
jure  yourself  no  less  than  you  grieve  your  friends." 


PARIS    IN   THE    YEAR   1800.  355 

"  Such  a  friend  I  cannot  refuse  anything,"  said  Madame  de 
Stael,  deeply  moved,  and  gave  him  her  hand.  "  I  shall  hence- 
forth love  you  more  than  ever,  since  your  heart  has  manifested 
so  much  sympathy  for  me." 

A  few  other  acquaintances  gave  her  similar  advice.  They 
told  her  she  would  have  no  difficulty  in  ingratiating  herself 
with  the  First  Consul,  and  the  advantages  arising  from  his  fa- 
vor were  so  great,  that,  in  acting  as  she  did,  she  must  be  per- 
fectly blind  to  her  own  interests.  She  could  not  deny  that 
these  arguments  were  excellent,  and  she  would  gladly  have 
pursued  a  prudent  course,  but  she  could  not  bring  herself  to 
do  so. 

"  I  am  no  longer  at  an  age  when  we  form  new  views  on  such 
subjects,"  she  replied.  "  I  have  reached  my  four-and-thirtieth 
year,  and  my  experience  adds  as  many  years  to  my  age.  I  am, 
moreover,  my  father's  daughter,  Jest  ma  nature  ainsi,  to  be 
candid.  I  owe  it  to  his  fame,  and  to  the  honor  of  his  name, 
not  to  sacrifice  my  political  opinions  to  my  personal  advantage. 
No  matter  what  I  may  do,  I  must  remain  true  to  my  convic- 
tions. To  such  sincerity  of  character  even  an  enemy  will  pay 
respect.  They  fear  me  only  because  they  are  unable  to  win 
me." 

Benjamin  Constant  had  listened  silently  to  this  conversa- 
tion. When  he  was  at  last  alone  with  her,  he  said,  in  a  tone  of 
vexation : 

"  It  is  unfortunate  for  women  to  meddle  with  politics.  How 
tranquil  and  agreeable  a  life  you  might  lead ;  how  pleasantly 
and  merrily  your  days  might  pass  in  the  bosom  of  your  family, 
but  for  this  passion  of  yours  for  playing  a  political  role!  " 

She  made  no  reply,  but  sat  motionless,  opposite  to  him,  wildly 
gazing  into  vacancy.  Constant  hastened  to  her  in  dismay  and 
seized  her  hands.  They  were  cold  as  ice.  She  seemed  to  be 


350  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

senseless.  When  he  touched  her,  she  awoke  to  conscious- 
ness as  if  from  a  dream.  She  pushed  him  back  and  said  in  a 
hollow  voice : 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me,  M.  de  Rebecque  ?  You  have 
said  to  me  all  that  can  be  said.  We  have  henceforth  no  lon- 
ger anything  to  do  with  each  other.  Go !  What  do  you  want 
here?" 

She  rose,  for  the  purpose  of  leaving  the  room,  but  her  feet 
refused  to  carry  her.  She  tottered.  He  hastened  to  her  in 
order  to  support  her;  but  before  he  reached  her,  she  sank 
senseless  at  his  feet. 

Almost  beside  himself,  he  bent  over  her  and  called  her  by 
the  fondest  names.  She  did  not  hear  him.  At  last  he  rang 
the  bell,  and  when  the  footman  came  in,  he  ordered  him  to  call 
Madame  de  Stael's  maid,  and  tell  her  to  undress  her  mistress 
and  lay  her  on  her  bed.  He  tried  once  more  to  appeal  with 
his  voice  to  her  heart.  A  deprecating  gesture  silenced  him, 
and  the  large  tears  which  now  gushed  from  her  long  dark 
lashes,  showed  him  how  unsuitable  the  moment  was  to  an  ex- 
planation and  reconciliation.  He  left  her,  in  an  agony  of  con- 
flicting emotions,  and  hastened  home,  where  he  locked  himself 
in  his  room. 

Madame  de  Stael  kept  her  room  for  several  days  after  this 
scene.  She  did  not  eat,  she  did  not  speak,  and  was  not  at  home 
for  anybody.  Even  Benjamin  Constant  was  not  admitted  to 
her.  He  wrote  to  her.  His  letters  remained  unanswered. 
Goaded  almost  to  madness  by  her  silence,  he  finally  determined 
to  force  an  entrance  into  her  room.  He  succeeded  in  gaining 
, access  to  her,  and,  throwing  himself  at  her  feet,  covered  her 
bands  with  glowing  kisses  of  repentance.  She  looked  at  him 
sadly  and  reproachfully,  and  had  not  the  heart  to  repel  him. 
When  he  commenced  excusing  himself,  she  closed  his  mouth, 


PARIS   IN   THE   YEAH  1800.  357 

and  told  him  to  be  silent.  "  Say  not  a  word  reminding  me  of 
the  past,"  she  said,  gravely.  "  Since  we  are  on  such  terms  as 
we  are  now,  we  had  better  speak  of  indifferent  matters." 

She  handed  him  the  Mercure  de  Fi'anee,  then  edited  by 
Fontanes.  It  contained  an  open  letter  addressed  by  Chateau- 
briand to  Madame  de  Stael,  and  in  which  he  tried  to  refute 
her  opinions. 

"  The  young  man  will  make  himself  famous  by  this  essay, 
and  by  thus  attacking  my  views,"  she  said.  "  All  Paris  will 
speak  of  him  to-day.  The  religious  tone  which  he  assumes  is 
new  to  us  ;  the  spirit  of  the  times  is  tending  in  that  direction. 
He  will  be  much  applauded  and  find  plenty  of  adherents.  His 
religious  enthusiasm,  moreover,  springs  from  genuine  con- 
viction, and  the  truth  never  fails  to  interest  us,  even  though  it 
does  not  harmonize  with  our  own  views.  Pray  call  on  him 
and  tell  him  that  I  wish  to  get  acquainted  with  him.  I  am 
much  interested  in  him." 

In  this  manner  the  interview,  so  painful  to  both  of  them, 
passed  without  a  real  reconciliation. 

A  few  days  afterward,  the  booksellers  advertised  Madame  de 
Stael's  new  work  on  Literature.  This  book  treated  neither  of 
Napoleon,  nor  of  his  policy,  but  expatiated  on  the  civilization 
of  the  human  mind,  and  pronounced  belles-lettres  its  most  beauti- 
ful flower.  This  book,  therefore,  created  an  extraordinary 
sensation.*  The  times  had  as  yet  brought  forth  few  productive 
talents ;  it  was  the  first  truly  great  book  since  the  Revolution, 
and  the  author  of  this  book  was  a  woman.  All  the  newspapers 
commented  on  it,  all  authors  hastened  to  criticize  it;  in  all 
circles  nothing  was  spoken  of  but  Madame  de  Stael  and  her 
work,  and  the  Parisians  bestowed  more  encomiums  and  admi- 
ration on  the  gifted  lady  than  ever  before.  Carriage  after 
*  Journal  de  Paris. 


358  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

carriage  drove  up  to  her  door ;  and  all  those  who  had  been  the 
first  to  desert  and  deny  her,  were  now  again  the  first  to  return 
to  her.  She  witnessed  this  sudden  zeal  with  a  bitter  smile. 
She  did  not  receive  anybody.  Her  servants  had  been  instructed 
to  inform  all  visitors  that  she  would  be  at  home  for  those  who 
wished  to  call  on  her  next  Monday  evening.  She  was  anxious 
to  find  out  how  large  the  number  of  her  friends  would  be  by 
that  day.  She  wanted  to  celebrate  her  triumph  with  this 
satisfaction,  which  was  so  painful  to  her  heart. 

Beautiful  Madame  .Recaniier  alone  was  not  included  in  this 
order.  She  alone  had  been  courageous  enough  to  visit  Mad- 
ame de  Stael  at  a  time  when  all  her  other  friends  had  deserted 
her;  and  for  this  noble  trait  of  kindheartedness  Madame  de 
Stael  rewarded  her  by  the  most  ardent  attachment  and  friend- 
ship. She  loved  Madame  Recamier,  not  because  she  was  beauti- 
ful, but  because  she  was  good. 

Napoleon  had  meanwhile  removed  from  the  Luxembourg 
to  the  Tuileries.  His  power  became  daily  more  absolute,  and 
he  gradually  matured  his  vast  and  daring  plans.  The  world 
was  henceforth  to  occupy  itself  with  him  alone,  and  now  the 
press  devoted  its  principal  attention  to  a  book  on  literature 
and  perfectibility  of  the  human  race,  and  to  excite  the  minds 
of  the  public  by  dwelling  on  a  subject  so  foreign  to  his  glory, 
and,  moreover,  treated  by  a  woman  whom  he  wished  to  see 
ignored  and  shunned  by  everybody.  The  growing  popularity 
of  his  gifted  enemy  irritated  him  more  and  more.  He  was  un- 
able to  counteract  it.  His  power  and  authority  were  insuffi- 
cient for  that  purpose.  He  could  not  prohibit  her  book ;  nor 
could  he  compel  her  to  leave  Paris  on  that  account.  So  he  had 
to  allow  the  mad  enthusiasm  of  the  Parisians  to  go  on  without 
let  or  hindrance. 

Monday  evening,  when  Madame  de  Stael  had  promised  to  re- 


PARIS   IN   THE   YEAR   1800.  359 

ceive  her  friends,  had  meanwhile  come.  The  apartments  of 
her  house  were  brightly  illuminated ;  the  servants  were  in  readi- 
ness at  the  doors.  Madame  de  Stael  herself,  attired  in  a  light- 
green  satin  dress  with  a  long  train,  her  short  curly  hair 
adorned  with  a  bandeau  and  plumes,  her  beautiful  arms  cov 
ered  with  long  gloves  reaching  up  beyond  the  elbows,  was 
sitting  at  the  door  leading  to  the  ante-room,  and  was  listening 
for  the  rolling  of  the  first  carriage. 

Benjamin  Constant  stood  before  her. 

"  If  we  grow  richer  in  experience  only  to  have  our  confi- 
dence in  men  diminished,  the  shortest  life,  at  bottom,  would 
be  the  most  desirable,"  he  remarked. 

"  I  am  not  of  your  opinion,"  said  Madame  de  Stael ;  "  we 
learn  to  be  satisfied  with  what  life  offers  us  ;  in  other  words, 
we  grow  wise  by  experience.  Having  been  so  long  deprived 
of  social  life  such  as  I  like  best,  I  arn  overjoyed  to  see  my  old 
friends  around  me  to-night,  and  ask  neither  why  they  come, 
nor  why  they  leave  me.  We  never  learn  to  appreciate  the  full 
value  of  anything  until  we  are  deprived  of  it.  A  conversation 
in  a  Parisian  salon  is  the  highest  enjoyment  I  know  of.  The 
springs  of  my  life  are  the  winters  which  I  have  passed  in 
Paris.  Je  compte  mes  printemps  par  mes  Jtivers.  I  feel  to-night 
as  if  I  were  awaking  to  new  happiness." 

Her  room  was  soon  crowded  with  visitors,  among  whom  the 
most  eminent  names  of  the  capital  were  represented,  and  all 
of  whom  paid  homage  to  her  genius.  So  she  had  attained  her 
object  and  recovered  her  celebrity  and  popularity.  She 
smiled  triumphantly. 

All  salons  of  the  capital  were  now  open  to  her;  she  was  in- 
vited to  all  soirees ;  wherever  she  made  her  appearance,  all 
eyes  followed  her,  and  everybody  paid  homage  to  her.  She 
fairly  reveled  in  this  triumph  which  she  had  taken  so  much 


360  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

trouble  to  achieve ;  a  heavy  burden  had  been  removed  from 
iier  breast. 

Time  wore  on.  Summer  was  close  at  hand,  and  Parisian 
society  dispersed  in  order  to  enjoy  rural  life.  Madame  de 
Stael,  therefore,  had  likewise  to  leave  this  scene  of  her  happi- 
ness. She  returned  in  the  best  of  spirits  to  her  father's  villa 
at  Coppet,  where  she  arrived  at  the  very  time  when  the  French 
army  crossed  the  Alps,  and  detachments  of  soldiers  disturbed 
the  peaceful  valleys  of  Switzerland. 

When  she  now,  on  fine  summer  evenings,  stood  on  the  bal- 
cony of  the  villa,  while  the  quiet  landscape  was  reflected  in 
the  transparent  lake,  the  snow-clad  summit  of  the  mountains 
looked  down  on  her  so  grandly  and  gravely,  and  her  children 
played  so  merrily  in  the  park,  she  was  almost  ashamed  of  the 
fact  that  she  sought  her  happiness  in  things  which  she  knew 
to  be  nugatory,  and  which,  moreover,  never  afforded  it  to  her. 
But  she  vainly  attempted  to  get  rid  of  her  inward  restlessness 
She  was  constantly  haunted  by  a  vague,  nameless  longing,  an 
incessant  dissatisfaction  which  clung  to  her  through  life,  and 
allowed  her  to  find  repose  only  in  death. 

Saints  and  martyrs  have  pursued  the  same  path  in  the  hope 
of  finding  in  heaven  full  compensation  for  the  imperfections 
of  their  earthly  existence. 

She  watched  Bonaparte's  victorious  career  with  the  liveliest 
interest,  hoping  all  the  time  that  it  would  terminate  in  defeats 
which  would  lead  to  his  downfall,  and  restore  liberty  to  her 
beloved  France.  Vain  hopes  and  wishes ! 

Those  fine  summer  days,  meanwhile,  passed  away  very  rap- 
idly ;  and  in  November,  1800,  when  social  life  in  Paris  began  to 
revive,  Madame  de  Stael,  too,  returned  to  the  capital  of  France. 
Peace  had  not  yet  been  concluded,  but  Moreau's  victories  had 
prepared  the  way  for  it.  No  one,  however,  saw  as  yet  through 


PAULS    IN   THE    YEAR    1800.  30 1 

the  ambitious  schemes  of  the  First  Consul,  and  his  adherents 
still  entertained  the  most  patriotic  hopes  for  the  welfare  of 
their  country. 

One  evening,  -while  engaged  in  an  animated  conversation 
with  a  few  friends,  Madame  de  Stael  heard  a  deafening  report, 
Avhich  no  one  was  able  to  account  for.  It  was  the  explosion 
of  the  infernal  machine. 

It  was  not  until  the  following  day  that  she  heard  of  the  plot 
and  its  failure,  and  unfortunately  she  was  imprudent  enough 
to  express  her  regret  at  it.  Her  remarks  were  reported  to  the 
First  Consul,  who  never  forgot  them. 

As  her  position  in  society  now  depended  upon  her  literary 
successes,  Madame  de  Stael  continued  most  zealously,  turning 
her  genius  to  account.  She  was  now  working  at  her  Delpldne. 
But  her  social  relations  engrossed  her  attention  so  much,  that 
her  work  progressed  rather  slowly,  and  she  counted,  therefore, 
upon  the  coming  summer,  and  the  leisure  which  she  would 
have  at  Coppet. 

She  passed  the  winter  this  time  in  the  most  agreeable  man- 
ner. It  is  true,  the  First  Consul  never  visited  her,  nor  did 
Talleyrand  show  himself  at  her  house ;  but  all  distinguished 
strangers  who  visited  Paris,  were  presented  to  her,  and  espe- 
cially the  diplomatists  of  the  foreign  powers  visited  her  very 
frequently.  She  spent  much  of  her  time  at  Joseph  Bonaparte's 
beautiful  villa,  Morfontaine,  and  Lucien  always  invited  her  to 
his  brilliant  festivals. 

Napoleon  alone  treated  her  constantly  with  the  same  cold- 
ness, despite  the  partiality  of  his  brothers  for  the  gifted  lady. 

One  day  she  met  him  at  the  house  of  General  Berthier. 
She  had  been  prepared  for  it,  for  her  friends  hoped  that  Mad- 
ame de  Stael  and  the  First  Consul  might  be  reconciled,  and 
they  had  therefore  taken  pains  to  bring  about  this  meeting. 
16 


302  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

Vain  endeavor!  Madame  de  Stael  refused  to  appear  in  deep 
humility  before  him  ;  she  wished  to  meet  with  admiration  and 
flattery  at  his  hands,  and  he  did  not  admire  anybody.  His  re- 
mark that  he  did  not  appreciate  the  genius  of  a  woman,  but 
only  the  number  of  children  whom  she  had  given  to  the 
country,  wounded  her  to  the  quick.  Henceforth  friendly  rela- 
tions between  her  and  such  a  man  were  out  of  the  question. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

IN  EXILE. 

MADAME  DE  STAEL  was  well  aware  that  the  sword  was  hang- 
ing over  her  head,  and  was  held  only  by  the  silken  thread 
with  which  public  opinion  still  reined  the  ruler  of  France. 
Nevertheless,  she  disdained  to  avert  the  threatening  danger 
by  pursuing  a  more  prudent  course  than  before. 

She  knew  that  Napoleon  was  informed  of  all  that  took  place 
at  her  house ;  that,  with  Fouche's  ears,  he  listened  to  every 
conversation  held  in  her  room ;  that,  by  the  aid  of  his  police- 
minister,  he  read  all  her  letters ;  *  that  all  she  did,  said,  and 
wrote  was  reported  to  him ;  and  yet  she  continued  giving  the 
reins  to  her  tongue.  She  was  a  woman,  and  availed  herself 
of  the  privilege  of  woman  to  speak  her  mind  with  impunity. 

But  Napoleon  would  not  grant  this  privilege  to  the  fair  sex. 
The  great  man  was  little  enough  to  show  to  the  world  that  he 
was  afraid  of  a  woman. 

In  France,  the  salons,  and  the  gifted  ladies  shining  in  them, 
have  always  exercised  considerable  influence  upon  public 
affairs.  Napoleon  was  not  ignoran  t  of  this  fact,  Madame  de 
Stael  held  intercourse  with  the  most  eminent  statesmen  of 
France ;  she  gathered  around  her  all  men  of  mind  and  genius ; 
and  Napoleon  noticed  that  those  who  visited  her  house,  always 
left  it  with  a  less  favorable  opinion  of  him.  He  was  unable 
to  prove  in  what  way  she  exercised  this  unfavorable  influence 
*  Mdmoires  de  Constant,  valet  de  chambre  de  I'Empereur  Napoleon. 


364  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

over  her  visitors ;  otherwise  he  would  have  had  no  hesitation 
in  punishing  her  for  it ;  he  only  knew  that  such  was  the  case, 
and  it  was  but  natural  for  him  to  try  to  remove  or  destroy  a 
power  so  injurious  to  him. 

A  woman  had  thrown  down  the  gauntlet  to  him,  and  he 
took  it  up. 

Owing  to  the  peculiar  political  situation  in  France,  it  was 
utterly  impossible  for  Madame  de  Stael  to  take  any  part  in  the 
management  of  public  affairs  ;  for  where  the  voice  of  one  man 
decides  everything,  none  but  those  who  are  on  intimate  terms 
with  that  man  can  have  influence.  So  she  had  to  play  the 
part  of  a  mere  looker-on;  and  all  she  could  venture  to  attempt, 
was  to  obtain  permission  for  her  exiled  friends  to  return  to 
France. 

Fouche  deemed  it  prudent  to  avoid  needless  rigor,  and,  al- 
though he  surrounded  Madame  de  Stael  with  spies,  and  se- 
cretly opened  her  letters,  he  treated  her  with  marked  favor, 
perhaps  only  to  lull  her  suspicions.  Many  a  poor  exile,  there- 
fore, now,  through  her  intercession,  obtained  leave  to  return  to 
his  native  country  •  and  she  was  overjoyed  to  be  able  to  place 
Narbonne,  too,  on  the  list  of  these  privileged  persons,  and  to 
welcome  him  in  Paris  after  so  prolonged  a  separation. 

It  is  true,  she  did  not  suspect  at  that  time  that  he  would  one 
day  enter  the  service  of  her  enemy,  and  assist  him  in  his  victo- 
rious career  to  the  best  of  his  power. 

In  the  autumn  of  1801,  she  returned,  as  usual,  to  Paris,  and 
opened  now,  in  the  zenith  of  her  celebrity  as  an  authoress  and 
gifted  woman,  her  salon  once  more  to  the  brilliant  world  of  (lie 
capital.  All  eminent  men  gathered  around  her  immediately ; 
all  distinguished  foreigners  were  presented  to  her ;  but,  above 
all,  her  house  was  frequented  by  those  who  were  secretly  hos- 
tile to  the  First  Consul,  and  envied  him  his  marvelous  sue- 


IN    EXIT.E.  305 

cesses,  by  which  he  had  here  and  there  crossed  their  ambitious 
purposes.  Among  those  who  rallied  around  her  for  this  rea- 
son was  also  Bernadotte,  the  future  King  of  Sweden,  who 
would  have  preferred  the  imperial  throne  of  France.  With 
him  she  was,  therefore,  soon  on  terms  of  the  most  intimate 
friendship ;  for  both  of  them  were  animated  by  secret  dislike 
of  Napoleon. 

M.  de  Chateaubriand  had  published  his  "  Genius  of  Christi- 
anity," and  acquired  great  celebrity  by  it.  Madame  de  Stael 
rejoiced  at  his  success.  She  was  free  from  that  contemptible 
envy  of  those  who  are  intent  only  on  adding  to  their  own 
fame,  and,  for  that  reason,  tolerate  no  other  talents  by  their 
side,  but  disparage  them  wherever  they  can.  Many  flowers 
bloom  in  the  garden  of  the  Lord ;  the  rose  need  not,  be  afraid 
of  the  pink,  for  both  are  flowers  of  peculiar  beauty,  and  can 
not  be  compared  with  one  another.  Thus  she  looked  also 
upon  other  persons  endowed  with  poetical  talents. 

Although  Chateaubriand's  principles  were  widely  different 
from  her  own,  she  highly  appreciated  his  works,  and  often  told 
him  how  warmly  she  admired  them.  "  Mere  echoes  weary 
me,"  she  would  reply  to  those  who  told  her  that  a  new  book 
was  not  written  in  her  spirit.  She  liked  and  praised  all  works 
which  showed  that  their  authors  were  gifted  men.  She  pos- 
sessed the  enviable  faculty  of  appreciating  the  peculiarities  of 
all  talented  authors,  and  it  never  occurred  to  her  to  mark  out 
for  it  a  path  which  was  repugnant  to  it. 

She  had  to  do  without  Benjamin  Constant  this  winter.  As 
her  friend,  he  spoke  and  wrote  in  consonance  with  her  views, 
and  thereby  incurred  Napoleon's  displeasure ;  the  consequence 
•was  that  he  lost  his  place  as  Secretary  of  the  Constitutional 
Club. 

Unjust  as  he  always  was,  he  hastened  in  the  first  ebullition 


366  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

of  bis  anger  to  Madame  de  Stael,  whom  lie  charged  with  hav- 
ing caused  his  misfortune,  and  informed  her  that  he  would  im- 
mediately set  out  for  Germany  and  try  to  enter  a  more  prosper- 
ous career. 

"  Should  I  have,  perhaps,  persuaded  you  to  conceal  your  sen- 
timents, because  self-interest  commanded  you  to  pursue  that 
cowardly  course  ?  "  she  said  to  him,  gravely. 

This  answer  caused  him  to  blush.  But  Paris  had  become 
distasteful  to  him  for  the  time  being,  and  so  he  departed. 

Madame  de  Stael  did  not  detain  him.  She  was  already  ac- 
customed to  his  running  away  in  his  fits  of  anger,  and  expected 
that,  as  usual,  he  would  return  immediately. 

She  did  not  believe  that  he  would  stay  away  from  her  a  long 
time,  for  she  knew  full  well  how  little  he  could  do  without  her. 
His  vacillating  character  had  to  be  guided  by  as  strong  a  mind 
as  hers,  in  order  to  avoid  those  weaknesses  by  which  characters 
so  constituted  so  often  forfeit  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  their 
fellow-men. 

Madame  de  Stael  wrote  often  to  him.  Amidst  the  brilliant 
social  life  of  the  capital,  she  did  not  forget  her  absent  friend. 
It  is  true  she  was  ignorant  of  the  bonds  which  detained  him 
in  Germany,  and  he  did  not  deserve  the  pity  which  she  felt  for 
him. 

Early  in  the  spring  she  intended  to  hasten  to  her  father  and 
gladden  his  heart  by  telling  him  how  successful  and  happy  she 
had  been.  Suddenly,  however,  her  physician  informed  her 
that  M.  de  Stael  had  had  a  stroke  of  apoplexy,  and  was  at  his 
house,  deserted  by  everybody,  and  without  a  woman  to  nurse 
him  in  his  helplessness. 

"  Oh,  my  God !  my  God ! "  she  exclaimed,  compassionately, 
and  hastened  to  him. 

Ho  was  suffering ;  that  was  enough  for  her  to  forgive  what 


IN    EXILE.  307 

had  separated  them.    He  was  sick  and  helpless ;  how  could 
she  then  still  bear  in  mind  how  he  had  wronged  her? 

She  found  him  in  a  pitiful  condition.  A  partial  paralysis  of 
his  limbs  rendered  him  helpless  and  entirely  dependent  on  his 
attendants,  while  a  repetition  of  the  fit  threatened  to  put  a 
speedy  end  to  his  life, 

She  consulted  with  the  doctor  as  to  the  course  that  should 
be  pursued  in  regard  to  him ;  she  said  that  no  sacrifice  would 
be  too  great,  no  trouble  too  arduous  for  her,  provided  she  could 
give  him  relief. 

The  baths  of  Aix,  in  Savoy,  were  to  be  tried  ;  the  hot  springs 
might  perhaps  cure  him  of  the  palsy. 

She  immediately  caused  a  comfortable  traveling  coach  to  be 
fitted  up  for  the  patient,  furnished  it  with  every  possible  con- 
venience, so  that  he  could  be  most  as  in  a  bed,  and  bid  farewell 
to  her  dear  Paris  in  order  to  journey,  by  short  stages,  at  the 
side  of  the  palsied  sufferer,  toward  their  mournful  destination. 

M.  de  Stael  was  deeply  moved  by  her  kindness  and  magnan- 
imity, and  expressed  his  gratitude  by  glances  and  words  as  far 
as  his  condition  permitted  him  to  do  so.  He  felt  inwardly 
with  profound  remorse  that  he  had  not  deserved  such  generous 
treatment  at  her  hands,  inasmuch  as  he  had  never  taken  pains 
to  win  her  affections,  and  to  be  to  her  a  tender  and  loving 
friend.  So  his  heart  smote  him,  although  she,  in  her  kindness, 
never  thought  of  making  him  ashamed  of  his  conduct  toward 
her. 

They  traveled  very  slowly,  for  long  stages  exhausted  the 
patient's  strength.  When  they  reached  the  small  frontier  town 
of  Poligny,  he  had  another  fit,  and  died. 

Madame  de  Stael  stood  in  profound  emotion  at  the  coffin  of 
the  unfortunate  man  whom  she  had  called  husband.  She  had 
been  unable  to  save  him,  unable  to  preserve  his  life. 


368  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

She  now  went  to  Coppet,  and  arrived  quite  unexpectedly  at 
her  father's  house,  with  the  remains  of  his  son-in-law,  who  was 
buried  there.  Madame  de  Stael  could  not  mourn  for  her  hus- 
band ;  and  yet  his  death  made  her  very  grave  for  a  time.  Whfle 
she  had  scarcely  aroused  herself  to  a  full  sense  of  her  new  lib- 
erty, Benjamin  Constant  suddenly  entered  her  room.  He  stood 
still  before  her  hi  surprise  on  seeing  that  she  was  in  mourning. 

"  I  am  a  widow,"  she  said  in  response  to  his  inquiring  glance, 
and  was  herself  astonished  at  the  sound  of  this  word  as  applied 
to  her,  for  her  relations  with  M.  de  Stael  had  been  such  as 
almost  not  to  justify  her  in  calling  herself  his  widow. 

Benjamin  looked  at  her  with  an  embarrassed  air  and  blushed. 
The  last  barrier  had  now  fallen  between  them.  He  dropped  his 
eyes,  lest  she  should  read  in  his  soul  what  he  took  good  care  to 
conceal  from  her.  She  noticed  his  confusion.  Her  eyes  rested 
on  him  mournfully  for  a  moment ;  she  then  began  to  talk  of 
indifferent  matters.  She  still  took  as  much  interest  in  political 
affairs  as  ever  before.  In  a  letter  to  Joseph  Bonaparte,  she 
wrote  on  this  subject  as  follows: 

"  COPPET,  October  9, 1802. 

"  The  peace  with  England  is  the  joy  of  the  world  ;  I  am  glad 
that  it  was  you  who  concluded  it,  and  that  you  have  every  year 
fresh  opportunities  to  win  the  love  and  esteem  of  the  whole 
nation.  You  have  conducted  the  most  important  negotiations 
in  the  annals  of  France.  Universal  applause  and  gratitude 
await  you ;  the  terms  will  be  excellent ;  if  they  were  less  sat- 
isfactory, this  peace  would  exercise  such  a  salutary  influence 
upon  the  domestic  prosperity  of  France  that  you  would  have 
a  thousand  opportunities  to  display  your  tact  and  sagacity,  in- 
asmuch as  so  many  commercial  interests  are  connected  with 
this  peace,  that  your  achievement  will  create  a  much  greater 
sensation  than  the  conclusion  of  the  peace  of  Luneville. 


IN   EXILE.  369 

"  Pardon  me  for  occupying  myself  on  so  important  an  occa- 
sion with  your  personal  welfare ;  I  gradually  accustom  myself 
to  measuring  the  most  momentous  events  only  with  reference 
to  you,  and  it  is  agreeable  to  concentrate  my  mind  in  my  love 
for  you.  I  think,  already,  with  pleasure  of  all  that  we  shall 
talk  about  you  next  winter. 

"  The  First  Consul  must  be  very  happy ;  you  serve  him  most 
efficiently,  and  your  great  kindness  enlists  all  hearts  in  your 
successes. 

"  Adieu !  Go  forward  to  the  greatest  and  most  brilliant 
event  of  your  life.  Enjoy  the  friendship  of  her  whose  wishes 

may  indemnify  you (illegible) 1  hope  you  will  earn 

glory  enough,  and  always  remain  my  friend ;  if  you  have  glory, 
and  I  your  friendship,  the  advantage  is  still  on  my  side. 

"  STAEL." 

"  P.  S. — Be  kind  enough  to  convey  my  respects  to  Madame 
Julie.  I  wish  her  joy,  and  I  am  glad  that  she  bears  the  name 
of  the  Peace-maker,  as  everybody  calls  you." 

She  now  resumed  her  literar\r  labors,  and  occupied  herself 
particularly  with  the  last  revision  of  her  Delphine,  which  was 
to  be  published  in  the  course  of  the  winter.  She  did  not  ven- 
ture to  return  to  Paris  in  autumn  and  superintend  the  publica- 
tion of  the  work;  for  she  had  been  informed  that  the  First 
Consul  had  said  it  would  be  good  for  her  not  to  return  to  the 
capital,  and  such  a  remark  from  his  lips  was  sufficiently  indica- 
tive of  the  course  he  intended  to  pursue  toward  her.  She  stood 
mournfully  on  the  balcony  of  the  chateau,  and  gazed  over 
toward  France,  where  there  reigned  now  such  an  active  and  stir- 
ring life,  in  which  she  longed  to  participate.  Should  she  risk  it? 
should  shetgo  to  Paris  despite  the  hint  which  she  had  received, 
and  expose  herself  to  banishment?  Should  she  pass  the  long, 
16* 


long  winter  all  alone  at  Coppet,  where  she  enjoyed  herself  so 
little  ? 

The  Prefect  of  Geneva  had  not  yet  been  ordered  to  refuse 
her  a  passport,  so  the  road  to  the  capital  was  open  to  her ; 
only  she  lacked  the  courage  to  set  foot  on  it.  Finally  she  re- 
solved to  remain  at  Coppet  until  her  Delphine  had  been  pub- 
lished. The  reception  of  this  book  was  to  show  her  the  feel- 
ings of  the  Parisians  toward  her  before  she  ventured  to  make 
her  appearance  at  the  capital. 

Her  days  dragged  through  in  anxious  suspense.  Necker 
himself  suffered  greatly  in  consequence  of  her  constant  agita- 
tion. He  loved  his  daughter  so  dearly  that  he  grieved  deeply 
to  see  her  deprived  of  something  which  gladdened  her,  and  he 
laid  all  sorts  of  plans  in  order  to  induce  Napoleon  to  desist 
from  his  rigorous  measures  toward  his  child.  Aged  as  he  was, 
and  arduous  as  a  journey  would  have  been  for  him,  he  was 
ready  to  go  to  Paris  and  intercede  personally  with  the  First 
Consul  in  her  behalf. 

Autumn  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  the  day  came  when 
Delpliine  was  published.  As  soon  as  the  book  had  appeared, 
it  created  a  great  sensation ;  all  salons  conversed  about  it 
alone,  all  coffee-houses  resounded  with  criticisms  on  it,  all 
newspapers  published  long  articles  on  it.  With  trembling 
haste  Madame  de  Stael  opened  the  first  Paris  paper  which  was 
sent  to  her.  It  was  the  Mercure  de  France,  edited  by  Laharpe, 
which  fell  into  her  hands.  But  alas !  instead  of  criticizing  the 
book,  the  editor  had  written  about  the  personal  appearance  of 
the  authoress.  She  glanced  in  dismay  over  the  lines.  He  said 
that  she  was  utterly  destitute  of  enthusiasm^  and  the  article 
closed  as  follows  :  "  Eegardez  la  !  EUe  est  grosse,  grasse  et  forte  ; 
sa  figure  est  eriluminee  de  trop  de  sante."  What  had  her  figure  to 
do  with  her  book  ?  How  could  they  allude  to  her  appearance  ? 


IN  EXILE.  371 

"  Oh,  how  mean  !  how  despicable ! "  cried  Madame  de  Stael, 
beside  herself  with  indignation ;  and  her  loud  lamentations 
drew  the  other  inmates  of  the  chateau  into  her  room.  Vainly 
did  Necker  try  to  comfort  her,  vainly  did  Benjamin  Constant 
assure  her  that  such  malicious  criticisms  of  a  book  would  not 
make  a  lasting  impression  on  anybody,  nor  detract  from  the 
value  of  the  work  in  the  eyes  of  any  sensible  person.  No  con- 
solations were  able  to  soothe  the  poor  lady.  These  very  re- 
marks on  her  personal  appearance,  her  character,  and  even  her 
private  affairs,  mortified  her  deeper,  perhaps,  than  if  the  book 
had  simply  been  pronounced  bad  and  unreadable.  They 
wounded  her  in  her  heart  of  hearts,  and  she  felt  as  if  the  very 
stones  could  not  but  look  at  her,  pity  her,  and  defend  her. 

A  great  many  critics,  however,  censured  the  book,  too.  They 
charged  her  with  having  reviled  religion  in  her  book,  recom- 
mended dueling,  and  advocated  divorce,  and  they  condemned  the 
work  as  immoral.  Only  a  few  voices  were  raised  in  her  defense, 
and  they  were  drowned  by  the  large  majority  of  unfavorable 
criticisms.  Lalaude  fearlessly  called  Delphine  "  Le  beau  roman 
de  Madame  de  Stael  f  and  Sueur  devoted  to  it  an  article  in  which 
he  bestowed  the  most  flattering  encomiums  on  it.  But  the 
book  was  prohibited  even  at  Leipzig,  and  the  Elector  of  Saxony 
threatened  those  who  were  in  possession  of  a  single  copy  of  it 
with  a  fine  of  one  hundred  dollars.  That  was  too  much.  She 
h^d  not  expected  that  her  book  would  meet  with  such  a 
reception. 

Necker  had  read  his  daughter's  work  before  she  had  pub- 
lished it,  and  he  had  approved  of  it.  The  more  painful  were 
these  attacks  to  him  now.  So  he  was  inclined  to  ascribe  the 
cause  of  this  renewed  hostility  of  the  First  Consul  to  himself, 
and  not  to  his  daughter's  novel.  He  had  sung  his  last  strains, 
as  Madame  de  Stael  called  his  book,  which  he  had  entitled 


372  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

Dernieres  vues  de  politique  et  de  finances.  Napoleon  was  exceed- 
ingly displeased  with  the  spirit  of  this  work,  and  said  that 
Madame  de  Stael  had  misrepresented  the  present  condition  of 
France  to  her  father.  In  a  paroxysm  of  rage  he  dictated  to 
Consul  Lebrun  a  letter  to  Necker,  in  which  he  informed  him 
in  unmeasured  terms  of  his  indignation,  and  which  wound  up 
with  the  announcement  that  Madame  de  Stael  would  no  longer 
be  permitted  to  reside  in  Paris.  So  she  had  been  prepared  for 
her  exile  even  previous  to  the  appearance  of  her  Delphine. 
Nevertheless,  the  certainty  of  what  she  had  feared  now  made 
the  most  painful  impressions  on  her.  Not  to  live  in  Paris  was 
in  her  case  equivalent  to  renouncing  all  enjoyments  of  exist- 
ence ;  people  lived  there,  and  merely  vegetated  elsewhere. 

So  she  resolved  to  pass  the  winter  at  Geneva.  But  what 
could  Geneva  offer  to  her  ?  She  caused  her  guests  to  perform 
parlor  theatricals  and  represent  charades  ;  she  gathered  around 
her  the  foreign  residents,  among  whom  were  a  great  many 
Englishmen  ;  she  recited  and  read  to  them,  and  created  a  great 
sensation  ;  but  she  herself  derived  from  this  social  intercourse 
no  other  enjoyment  than  that  of  gratified  vanity.  A  conversa- 
tion, such  as  she  liked,  could  be  held  only  at  the  capital  of 
France,  and  this  conversation  was  the  highest  and  only  enjoy- 
ment of  her  life. 

In  the  following  autumn  she  was  lead  to  believe  that  Napo- 
leon had  forgotten  her.  Her  friends  wrote  her  from  Paris 
that  the  contemplated  expedition  to  England  engrossed  all  his 
thoughts,  and  that  he  hardly  thought  of  her  any  more.  So  she 
resolved  to  profit  by  this  opportunity  to  approach  the  capital. 

She  took  up  her  residence  at  Maffliers,  a  villa  situated  within 
ten  leagues  of  Paris.  Here  she  intended  to  pass  the  winter,  re- 
ceive her  friends,  and  visit  every  now  and  then  a  theater  or 
art-gallery  at  the  capital. 


EXILE. 


378 


She  had  spent  two  months  undisturbedly  at  this  villa,  and 
began  to  look  about  with  less  timidity,  and  rejoice  at  the  suc- 
cess of  her  plan,  when  the  First  Consul  was  informed  that 
the  road  to  Maffliers  was  covered  with  carriages  and  men 
hastening  to  Madame  de  Stael.  This  information,  no  doubt, 
came  from  Madame  de  Genlis,  who  was  indebted  for  her  return 
to  Paris  and  a  pension  to  a  correspondence  with  Napoleon, 
which  informed  him  of  a  great  many  things  which  he  would 
not  have  learned  otherwise.  To  tolerate  a  rival  whose  literary 
celebrity  far  eclipsed  her  own,  could  not  be  expected  of  a  vain 
woman,  and  so  she  availed  herself  of  this  opportunity  to  remove 
the  envied  Madame  de  Stael  from  the  capital. 

Madame  de  Stael  was  informed  by  one  of  her  friends  that  a 
gensd'arme  would  bring  her  the  order  to  leave  France.  At 
first  she  refused  to  believe  in  the  truth  of  this  communication, 
inasmuch  as  it  seemed  to  her  incredible  that  a  lady  should  be 
subjected  to  such  arbitrary  treatment.  She  believed  that  Na- 
poleon would  hardly  have  the  courage  to  pursue  such  a  course 
toward  a  lady  of  her  rank,  nay,  that  he  would  be  unwilling  to 
confess  how  much  he  was  afraid  of  her. 

However,  she  was  not  long  in  finding  out  that  she  was  mis- 
taken. 

She  ordered  her  carriage  and  fled  to  Madame  de  la  Tour,  to 
whom  Regnault  de  Saint  Jean  d'Angely  had  recommended 
her.  She  was  hardly  acquainted  with  this  lady.  She  found 
her  at  her  villa,  surrounded  by  a  number  of  persons  who  were 
almost  entire  strangers  to  her,  and  to  whom  she  would  not  be- 
tray the  fear  gnawing  at  her  heart.  At  every  unwonted  noise 
she  would  give  a  start ;  her  color  changed  from  minute  to  min- 
ute; she  scarcely  listened  to  what  was  said,  and  her  answers 
indicated  that  she  had  not  followed  the  course  of  the  conversa- 
tion. What  if  the  gensd'arme,  with  whose  arrival  she  had  been 


374  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

threatened,  should  follow  her  thither?  What  if  he  should  ar 
rest  her  in  the  presence  of  all  these  guests  ? 

Glad  to  escape  this  almost  intolerable  constraint,  she  retired 
to  her  room.  But  here  she  did  not  find  any  rest  either.  She 
opened  the  window  and  listened  if  the  sound  of  a  horse  should 
be  audible  in  the  stillness  of  the  night ;  and  she  looked  from 
minute  to  minute  for  the  arrival  of  the  tyrant's  messenger.  She 
wrote  to  Joseph  Bonaparte  and  depicted  to  him  the  whole 
extent  of  her  humiliating  situation.  She  told  him  that  she 
had  only  sought  an  asylum  at  a  place  ten  leagues  from  Paris, 
and  that  she  had  not  been  desirous  of  returning  to  the  capital. 
She  implored  him  to  intercede  for  her,  and,  above  all,  to  pre- 
vent the  dread  word  "  exile  "  from  being  pronounced  against 
her ;  for  those  who  had  once  been  exiled  always  had  the  ut- 
most difficulty  in  obtaining  permission  to  return  to  Paris. 

Her  days  dragged  through  in  anxious  suspense.  Madame 
Recamier,  who  had  returned  from  a  trip  to  England,  invited 
her  to  come  to  her  house  at  Saint  Brice.  She  accepted  her  in- 
vitation gratefully,  without  anticipating  how  grievously  she 
would  injure  her  beautiful  friend  by  so  doing.  The  most 
agreeable  company  was  assembled  there,  and  she  yielded  once 
more  to  the  charm  of  the  enchanting  conversation,  of  which 
she  was  so  very  fond.  She  met  Talma  there.  He  read  to  her 
a  scene  from  Othello.  Madame  de  Stael  told  him  that  all  he 
had  to  do,  to  be  the  Moor  of  Venice,  was  to  pass  his  hand 
through  his  hair  and  knit  his  brow.  Madame  Recamier  sung 
with  her  enchanting  voice,  and  Madame  de  Stael  recited  scenes 
from  Romeo  and  Juliet,  or  represented  Hagar  in  the  desert, 
with  Madame  Recamier,  who  performed  the  part  of  the  angel 
on  such  occasions.  The  effect  which  she  produced  by  such 
tableaux-vivants  was  indescribable.  She  represented  the  ex- 
pression of  grief  with  such  striking  vividness  that  all  the.  spec- 


IN   EXILE.  375 

tators  were  irresistibly  carried  away  by  her  performance.  Her 
long  black  hair  hung  disheveled  upon  her  shoulders  and  back. 
Her  dark  eyes  beamed  with  heavenly  radiance  as  they  assumed 
the  expression  of  despairing  maternal  love.  All  eyes  rested, 
spell-bound,  upon  her  face,  and  attentively  followed  her  slightest 
movements.  Although  she  was  not  good-looking,  she  seemed 
surpassingly  beautiful  at  such  moments,  and  no  one  had  any 
difficulty  in  understanding  how,  destitute  as  she  was  of  per- 
sonal charms,  she  had  been  abk  to  inspire  men  with  the  most 
passionate  love. 

She  passed  several  days  in  this  manner,  as  if  in  a  sweet 
dream,  so  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  had  those  longed-for 
enjoyments  and  charming  intercourse  with  her  friends  been 
restored  to  her.  As  no  one  alluded  to  her  exile,  she,  too,  com- 
menced forgetting  the  dread  word,  and  tried  to  persuade  herself 
that  Napoleon  no  longer  intended  to  punish  her. 

Almost  perfectly  reassured,  and  satisfied  that  he  had  only 
threatened  her  in  order  to  frighten  her,  she  finally  returned  to 
her  villa. 

Several  friends  visited  her  there,  and  she  merrily  sat  down  to 
dinner  with  them.  The  garden-hall  opened  upon  the  highway, 
and  allowed  her  to  see  the  entrance  gate.  It  was  a  bright  Sep- 
tember day ;  heaven  and  earth  were  radiant  under  the  rays  of 
the  autumnal  sun,  and  Madame  de  Stael's  face  likewise  beamed 
with  satisfaction  at  her  safety  from  arbitrary  treatment.  She 
merrily  surveyed  the  small  circle  of  her  friends,  and  enjoyed 
their  pleasant  conversation. 

At  this  moment  the  clock  struck  four. 

A  man  dressed  in  a  suit  of  gray  clothes  appeared  at  the  gate 
and  demanded  admittance.  He  was  on  horseback. 

No  sooner'had  Madame  de  Stael  cast  a  glance  upon  him,  than 
she  knew  her  fate.  She  started  up  in  dismay. 


376  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

He  demanded  an  interview  with  her.  She  left  her  guests  and 
went  to  him  in  the  garden.  The  flowers  were  so  fragrant,  the 
sun  shone  so  brightly,  she  stood  still  and  yielded  for  a  mo- 
ment to  a  meditation  on  the  difference  between  the  effects  pro- 
duced on  the  mind  by  nature,  and  those  which  society  makes 
upon  us.  The  man  in  gray  now  approached  her,  and  said  he 
was  the  captain  of  the  gensd'armes  of  Versailles ;  in  order  not 
to  frighten  her,  he  had  not  put  on  his  uniform.  He  then 
showed  her  a  letter,  signed  by  Bonaparte,  ordering  him  to 
remove  her  forty  leagues  from  Paris ;  he  was  to  start  with  her 
in  the  course  of  twenty-four  hours,  but  to  treat  her  with  the 
utmost  respect. 

Madame  de  Stael  trembled,  and  was  scarcely  able  to  compose 
herself. 

"  Such  an  order  is  issued  against  criminals,  but  not  against 
a  lady  of  my  rank,  not  against  a  lady  who  has  to  give  up 
housekeeping  and  to  take  her  children  along  with  her.  Ac- 
company me  for  three  days  to  Paris,  sir,  that  I  may  make  my 
preparations."  He  bowed  and  said  that  he  was  willing  to 
comply  with  her  request. 

She  now  returned  to  her  guests,  apologized  for  her  depar- 
ture, ordered  her  carriage,  and  entered  it  with  the  officer  and 
with  her  children.  Her  friends  looked  after  her  regretfully. 
When  would  they  meet  her  again  ? 

She  caused  her  carriage  to  stop  at  Madame  Recamier's  villa, 
and  alighted  in  order  to  see  her  friend.  She  met  here  General 
Junot,  who  promised  her  to  bring  his  whole  influence  to  bear 
in  her  behalf  upon  the  First  Consul.  Vain  promise! 

Madame  de  Stael  had  rented  a  new  house  in  Paris  in  the 
nope  of  passing  the  winter  there ;  she  now  entered  it  for  the 
first  time,  accompanied  by  the  gend'arme.  She  hastened  sadly 
tlirongh  the  apartments  in  which  she  had  hoped  to  spend  many 


IN    EXILE.  377 

merry  hours  with  her  friends.  Every  morning  the  gencl'arme 
made  his  appearance  here,  and  told  her  that  she  must  set  out ; 
and  every  day  she  met  him  with  the  urgent  request  to  allow 
her  to  remain  another  day  at  her  house.  She  wished  to  see 
her  friends  once  more ;  she  wished  to  be  merry  with  them  once 
again  in  these  apartments,  before  bidding  farewell  to  Paris 
and  to  happiness. 

Joseph  Bonaparte  tried  to  persuade  his  brother  once  more  oil 
the  day  previous  to  her  departure  to  desist  from  a  measure 
which  seemed  unworthy  of  his  greatness,  directed  as  it  was 
against  a  woman;  but  his  efforts  proved  unsuccessful.  His 
amiable  young  wife  hastened  to  Madame  de  Stael,  and  requested 
her  to  spend  a  few  days  with  them  at  Morfontaine,  an  invita- 
tion which  she  accepted  with  heartfelt  gratitude  under  the  ex- 
isting circumstances.  Her  oldest  son,  Augustus,  accompanied 
her  thither.  But  however  gratefully  she  acknowledged  the 
kindness  of  Joseph  Bonaparte,  she  could  not  enjoy  herself  in  a 
family  where  she  had  to  conceal  the  bitter  feelings  gnawing  at 
her  heart;  so  she  left,  three  days  afterward,  this  hospitable 
house,  where  she  had  formerly  passed  so  many  pleasant  hours. 

But  whither  was  she  now  to  wend  her  way  ?  Was  she  to 
return  to  Geneva,  where  the  monotony  of  social  life  seemed  in- 
tolerable to  her,  and  where  everybody  would  tacitly  say  to  her, 
"  You  have  been  sent  back  to  us  ? "  Her  pride  revolted  at  this 
humiliation.  She  had  always  said  to  the  Swiss,  that  France 
was  her  native  country,  and  that  she  was  utterly  averse  to 
being  considered  a  daughter  of  Switzerland.  France  had  now 
disowned  her ;  what  if  Switzerland  should  do  likewise  ? 

Hence  she  resolved  to  go  to  Germany.  In  Germany  her 
name  was  well  known ;  in  Germany  her  father  was  loved  and 
esteemed,  and  the  ancient  dynasties  would  be  certain  to  re- 
ceive her  in  a  flattering  manner.  She  requested  Joseph  to  in- 


378  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

quire  if  she  might  go  to  Prussia.  He  hastened  to  St.  Cloud, 
while  she  awaited  his  answer  at  a  small  tavern  two  hours 
from  Paris.  The  answer  was  in  the  affirmative.  Joseph  sent 
her  letters  of  introduction  to  distinguished  persons  in  Berlin, 
and  wished  her,  in  the  most  courteous  manner,  a  happy  journey 
to  Germany. 

This  was  the  last  word.     She  was  obliged  to  go. 

Benjamin  Constant  accompanied  her  on  her  journey.  She 
sadly  leaned  back  her  head  in  a  corner  of  the  carriage,  and  in- 
wardly regretted  every  step  of  the  horses  which  removed  her 
from  Paris.  Never,  perhaps,  did  a  traveler  set  out  on  a  jour- 
ney in  gloomier  spirits.  It  was  not  until  they  reached  Chalons, 
that  Constant — par  son  etonnante  conversation  * — succeeded  in 
arousing  her  from  her  apathy.  At  Metz  she  was  slightly  ex- 
hilarated by  the  presence  of  a  M.  Villers.  Nevertheless,  she 
was  unable  to  forget  Paris,  and  to  accustom  herself  to  the  idea 
that  she  should  not  live  there  any  more. 

*  Her  own  words. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THREE  MONTHS  AT  "WEIMAR. 

FRANKFORT,  Dec.  3, 1803. 
"  Madame  de  Stael  to  M.  de  CMteaubriand — 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu,  my  dear  Francis,  how  your  letter  saddened 
my  heart !  Already  yesterday  the  newspapers  had  conveyed 
the  dreadful  tidings  to  me,  and  your  heart-rending  account 
then  stamped  it  in  bloody  letters  upon  my  memory.  Can  you 
speak  to  me  of  different  opinions  about  religion  and  the 
priests  ?  Are  there  two  opinions  when  there  is  but  one  feel- 
ing ?  I  have  read  your  letter  with  scalding  tears.  My  dear 
Francis,  call  to  mind  the  time  when  your  friendship  for  me 
had  reached  its  height ;  do  not  forget  the  moments  when  my 
whole  heart  belonged  to  you,  and  tell  yourself  then  that  the 
same  feelings  still  reign  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  only  more 
so  than  ever  before.  I  loved,  I  admired  the  character  of  Mad- 
ame de  Beaumont;  I  never  knew  a  more  magnanimous,  grate- 
ful, and  affectionate  one.  Ever  since  I  entered  the  world,  I 
have  been  on  intimate  terms  with  her ;  and  even  amidst  many 
disagreeable  circumstances,  my  attachment  to  her  has  never 
been  shaken.  Mon  cher  Francis,  grant  me  a  place  in  your  life. 
I  admire  and  love  you ;  I  loved  her  for  whom  you  are  mourn- 
ing. I  am  a  faithful  friend.  I  shall  be  a  sister  to  you.  I  shall 
honor  your  sentiments  more  than  ever.  Mathieu,  who  shares 
them,  is  as  kind  to  me  as  an  angel,  whenever  a  calamity  befalls 
me.  Give  me  again  opportunities  to  spare  you ;  let  me  be 
useful  to  you  or  afford  you  pleasure.  Have  you  heard  that  I 


380  •  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

Lave  been  exiled  to  a  place  forty  leagues  from  Paris?  I  shall 
profit  by  this  decree  to  make  a  trip  to  Germany ;  but  next 
spring,  if  I  can  obtain  permission,  I  shall  return  to  Paris,  or 
at  all  events  take  up  my  abode  in  its  vicinity,  or  go  to  Geneva. 
Let  us  then  meet  somewhere.  Do  you  not  feel  that  my  mind 
and  soul  comprehend  and  appreciate  yours  ?  Do  you  not  feel 
that  we  are  similar  to  each  other,  despite  our  dissimilarities  ? 
M.  von  Humboldt  wrote  to  me  a  few  days  since,  and  alluded  to 
your  works  in  terms  of  admiration,  which,  coming  as  they  did 
from  a  man  of  his  merit  and  views,  could  not  but  be  flattering 
to  you.  But  am  I  at  liberty  to  speak  to  you,  at  this  moment,  of 
your  successes  ?  She,  you  know,  loved  these  successes,  and 
attached  the  utmost  importance  to  them.  .  Continue  adding  to 
the  celebrity  of  him  who  was  so  dear  to  her.  Adieu,  my 
dear  Francis.  I  shall  write  to  you  from  Weimar,  in  Saxony 
Address  your  replies  to  me  thither,  care  of  M.  Desport,  Banker. 
What  heart-rending  words  do  I  find  in  your  letter!  And 
your  determination  to  keep  poor  St.  Germain !  You  will 
one  day  take  him  to  my  house. 
"  Once  more,  an  affectionate,  a  mournful  farewell. 

"  K  DE  STAEL." 

Contrary  to  expectation,  Madame  de  Stael  was  detained  for 
some  time  at  Frankfort  by  the  sickness  of  her  youngest  child, 
a  little  girl  of  five. 

The  Journal  de  Paris  stated  that  she  had  left  Paris  in  order 
to  issue  in  Berlin  a  new  edition  of  her  DelpJiine,  with  a  pre- 
face justifying  the  purpose  and  contents  of  the  book.  Ben- 
jamin Constant  was  mentioned  as  her  companion,  and  as  au- 
thor of  several  pamphlets  and  of  a  translation  of  Kant;  "  d»nt 
la  doctrine"  said  the  editor,  "  est  <ui  dewis  de  li  porlcv  de  Vexprit 
hiimai/)" 


THREE    MONTHS    AT   WEIMAB.  381 

At  this  very  juncture,  Frederick  Schlegel  lectured  every 
Sunday  morning  in  Paris,  and  sought  to  familiarize  the  French 
public  with  the  spirit  of  German  science ;  to  judge  from  the 
above-mentioned  article,  there  remained  to  him  a  vast  field  for 
his  lectures  on  German  literature  and  philosophy. 

Madame  de  Stael,  however,  received  also  from  Paris  other 
newspapers  alluding  to  her  journey  in  less  delicate  terms,  and 
closing  with  calumnies  which  caused  her  heart  to  tremble. 
She  had  to  drink  both  honey  and  wormwood  from  the  cup  of 
life ;  of  both  of  them  a  measure  full  to  overflowing  was  pre- 
sented to  her  lips. 

In  Germany,  the  name  of  Madame  de  Stael  had  long  been 
verv  favorably  known,  and  her  writings  had  been  read  with 
great  admiration.  Already,  in  the  year  1795,  Sophie  la  Roche 
had  written  to  Wieland  : 

"  Tell  me,  would  you  like  to  read  Les  Reflexions  'sur  la  Pate, 
which  Madame  de  Stael,  Necker's  daughter,  wrote  in  her 
leisure  hours,  and  dedicated  to  Pitt,  and  to  the  French  nation  ? 
And  shall  I  send  you  Zutma,  the  fragment  of  a  very  interesting 
work  by  this  same  gifted  woman?  Intent  as  she  was  on 
writing  on  the  influence  of  the  passions  over  our  happiness, 
she  of  course  tried  first  to  depict  that  of  loves,  and  Zulrna  ap- 
peared. I  confess  I  am  glad  to  own  the  works  of  father, 
mother,  and  daughter,  and  to  be  personally  acquainted  with 
all  three  of  them." 

The  inhabitants  of  Weimar  had  already  been  prepared  for 
her  arrival,  and  awaited  her  impatiently,  while  so  sad  a  cause 
detained  her  at  Frankfort.  It  was  the  first  German  city  where 
she  stayed  for  some  time,  and  the  grave  apprehensions  with 
which  the  sickness  of  her  little  daughter,  Albert! ue,  filled  her, 
did  not  render  more  agreeable  the  impression  which  the  still- 
ness of  the  place,  the  sound  of  the  foreign  language,  and  her 


382  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

• 
longing  for  Paris  and  for  her  friends,  made  upon  her.    Few 

physicians  spoke  French  at  that  time,  and  owing  to  this  fact 
she  had  considerable  difficulty  in  conversing  with  her  doctor, 
which  was  extremely  painful  to  her  maternal  heart. 

She  received  daily  letters  from  Coppet,  with  advice  and  con- 
solation, and  medical  instructions  from  her  doctor  in  Geneva. 
Necker  always  accompanied  his  daughter  in  thought,  and 
shared  both  her  joys  and  sorrows. 

She  wrote  to  him  from  Frankfort : 

"  But  for  prayer,  what  would  become  of  a  mother  who  knows 
that  her  child's  life  is  endangered  ?  This  condition  would  lead 
to  the  discovery  of  religion,  even  though  it  had  been  unknown 
up  to  that  time." 

She  did  not  breathe  more  freely  until  the  physician  declared 
that  her  little  daughter  was  out  of  danger. 

The  days  had,  meanwhile,  grown  shorter — a  cold  shroud 
of  snow  covered  the  earth,  and  all  the  terrors  of  winter  set  in. 
She  had  considerable  difficulty  in  continuing  her  journey,  and 
was  glad  if  every  day  brought  her  a  few  miles  nearer  to  her 
destination. 

Benjamin  Constant  was  no  stranger  to  this  soil.  He  had 
formerly  already  passed  through~these  regions,  although  with 
a  lighter  heart,  and  a  destination  holding  out  to  him  the  most 
brilliant  prospects  and  hopes.  Now  he  gazed  with  a  gloomy 
air  upon  these  desolate  fields,  and  seemed  to  be  a  prey  to  con- 
stant despondency.  There  was  something  unsteady  in  his 
gaze ;  and  a  certain  anxiety,  which  Madame  de  Stael  perceived 
full  well,  had  seized  him  since  they  had  reached  Germany. 

She  fixed  her  radiant  eyes  on  him  inquiringly.  He  noticed 
it,  and  tried  to  avert  her  thoughts  from  him  by  entering  into 
a  conversation  with  her.  Familiar  as  he  was  with  what  was 
most  interesting  to  her,  he  nearly  always  succeeded  in  drawing 


TIIKEE    MONTHS    AT    WEIMAE.  333 

her  into  a  conversation  when  he  wished  to  do  so;  and  theu 
•e  would  speak  so  beautifully  and  charmingly  that  he  had  like- 
wise to  banish  his  thoughts  from  his  mind,  and  hang  upon  her 

lips. 

Madame  de  Stael  wished  to  be   acquainted  with  the  poets 

Germany,  and  therefore  she  wended  her  way  to  Weimar 

The  muses  had  at  that  time  fled  to  the  banks  of  the  Ilm  and 

shed  over  the  small  duchy  a  lustre  which  was  to  illuminate 

ie  whole  world.    Pilgrims  flocked  thither  from  all  quarters 

of  the  globe,  in  order  to  worship  at  its  shrine. 

On  a  dark  evening  she  reached  the  small  town,  whose  streets 
were  not  lit  up  by  any  lantern  save  that  of  her  own  traveling 
coach,  and  alighted  at  the  not  very  comfortable  hotel.  Already 
an  hour  after  her  arrival,  the  news  that  the  celebrated  lady  had 
arrived  at  length,  spread  from  house  to  house ;  and  early  in  the 
morning  all  asked  each  other  how  and  where  they  would  meet 
her. 

Madame  de  Stael  had  been  urgently  recommended  to  the 
court  of  Weimar,  and  no  sooner  had  she  arrived  than  she  was 
invited  to  the  ducal  table,  and  received  in  the  most  flattering 
and  honorable  manner.  After  dinner  was  over,  the  Duke  in- 
troduced Schiller  to  her.  The  celebrated  lady  fixed  her  eyes 
searchingly  on  the  face  of  the  German  poet,  whom  she  met 
with  proud  self-consciousness.  Her  heavy,  corpulent  form  con- 
trasted strangely  with  that  of  the  pale,  slender  poet,  with  the 
angular  features,  upon  which  the  lofty  aspirations  of  his  mind 
were  stamped,  while  the  singular  figure  now  standing  before 
him  evidently  belonged  to  earth. 

When  his  clear  blue  eyes  met  her  ardent  gaze,  he  dropped 
them  almost  in  terror  before  those  dazzling  rays 

She  now  addressed  him  in  her  fine  deep  voice*  in  a  language 
which  he  did  not  speak  fluently,  and  which  he  understood  only 


384  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

through  her  excellent  pronunciation,  and  the  vivid  expression 
of  her  face.  He  listened  to  her  attentively,  while  his  high, 
thoughtful  forehead  looked  even  more  thoughtful  than  usual. 

"  Sit  by  me,"  she  said,  beckoning  to  him  to  seat  himself  at 
her  side ;  "  I  have  known  you  for  a  long  time  past ;  we  are  old 
acquaintances,  and  Jest  ma  nature  ainsL,  to  treat  all  gifted  men 
as  my  friends.  I  have  come  to  Germany  in  order  to  familiarize 
myself  with  your  philosophy.  I  should  like  to  get  acquainted 
with  your  Kant  and  Fichte.  Pray  tell  me  all  about  them. 
Which  of  them  do  you  prefer  ?  Which  of  them  do  you  con- 
sider most  profound  ?  " 

Schiller  had  some  difficulty  in  replying  to  her  numerous 
questions.  Nevertheless,  he  was  soon  engaged  hi  an  animated 
conversation,  and  absorbed  in  philosophical  discussions  such 
as  these  rooms  had  perhaps  never  heard  before.  The  court 
listened  from  afar  in  the  utmost  surprise  to  the  singular  con- 
versation of  the  two  illustrious  personages.  Both  of  them 
grew  more  and  more  excited ;  Madame  de  Stael  raised  her  fine 
voice  louder  and  louder,  and  caused  its  sonorous  tones  to  fall 
charmingly  on  the  ears  of  the  listeners.  Suddenly,  however, 
as  if  actuated  by  a  quick  impulse,  she  jumped  up  from  her  seat 
and  walked  with  her  bold,  firm  step  toward  the  Duke;  all 
looked  at  her  hi  astonishment,  and  awaited  eagerly  what  she 
was  about  to  do. 

"  I  have  just  learned  that  M.  Goethe  is  at  Jena,"  she  said, 
vividly ;  "  and  when  I  requested  M.  Schiller  to  present  him  to 
me,  he  replied  he  could  not  do  so,  inasmuch  as  he  would  not 
return  to  Weimar,  but  would  expect  me  to  visit  him  there.  Is 
t  this  really  in  accordance  with  German  etiquette,  sire  ?  Is  it 
customary  for  ladies  at  your  court  to  pay  homage  to  gentlemen 
in  this  manner  ?  If  such  is  really  the  case,  I  must  submit  to 
this  strange  custom." 


TTTR'EE    MONTHS    AT    WEIMAR.  385 

The  Duke  glanced  in  confusion  at  Schiller,  in  whose  eyes  he 
read  the  confirmation  of  this  charge,  and  replied  after  a  mo- 
ment's reflection,  "  Your  wishes,  Madame,  will  be  respected  by 
all  the  members  of  my  court ;  it  will  be  flattering  to  Goethe 
that  you  desire  to  be  acquainted  with  him,  and  I  myself  shall 
inform  him  to-morrow  of  the  happiness  which  awaits  him." 

Reassured  by  this  reply,  Madame  de  Stael  allowed  the  con- 
versation to  turn  to  other  topics,  and  thus  closed  a  day  so 
memorable  in  the  annals  of  Weimar. 

On  the  following  morning,  Schiller  caused  himself  to  be  an- 
nounced to  her  in  order  to  introduce  to  her  Wieland,  who 
made  a  very  agreeable  impression  on  her.  In  the  meantime, 
the  Duke  sent  a  messenger  to  Goethe  in  order  to  induce  him 
to  return  to  Weimar ;  but  what  Goethe  had  before  said  to 
Schiller,  he  repeated  now  in  his  reply  to  the  Duke,  only  in  more 
respectful  terms.  "  In  order  to  enjoy  the  celebrated  lady,  he 
must  have  a  tete-a-tete  with  her,  and  would  have,  therefore, 
rooms  fitted  up  for  her  in  Loder's  house."  * 

The  Duke 'did  not  venture  to  communicate  this  answer  to 
her,  and  preferred  informing  her  that  Goethe  was  sick,  where- 
upon Madame  de  Stael  resolved  to  prolong  her  sojourn  at 
Weimar. 

Although  Weimar  was  not  Paris,  it  offered  many  attractions 
to  her  mind ;  and  there  remained  so  many  questions  for  her  to 
propound  that  she  did  not  lack  material  for  the  most  animated 
discussions. 

Schiller  wrote  to  K8rner :  "  She  is  a  most  gifted  and  ac- 
complished woman ;  and  if  she  were  not  so  very  interesting,  I 
should  not  pay  so  much  attention  to  her.  But  you  may  im- 
agine the  striking  contrast  of  this  gifted  creature,  standing  on 
the  summit  of  French  culture,  and  thrown  into  our  midst  from 

*  Vide  Schiller's  Letters  to  Komer. 
17 


386  MADAME    DK    STAEL. 

an  entirely  different  world,  with  our  German  peculiarities,  and, 
above  all,  with  my  own  being.  She  diverts  me  almost  entirely 
from  poesy,  and  I  wonder  that  I  am  still  able  to  write  any- 
thing. I  see  her  very  often,  and,  as  I  do  not  speak  French  very 
fluently,  I  really  have  a  hard  time  of  it.  But  her  wonderful 
mind,  her  liberality,  and  her  great  susceptibility,  entitle  her  to 
our  warmest  esteem." 

While  Madame  de  Stael  achieved  these  triumphs,  Benjamin 
Constant  received  a  letter  which  embarrassed  him  beyond 
measure.  M'lle  de  Hardenberg  proposed  to  him  in  it  to  visit 
him  at  Weimar,  in  order  to  get  acquainted  with  his  generous 
protectress.  He  had  not  told  her  that  this  protectress  was  and 
had  to  remain  ignorant  of  her  existence,  and  hence  he  was  at 
a  loss  what  to  do  in  order  to  prevent  her  from  coming  to  Wei- 
mar. Now  that  he  was  in  Germany,  it  was  but  natural  for 
him  to  join  the  lady  of  his  heart ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  leave  Madame  de  Stael  at  a 
moment  when,  owing  to  her  ignorance  of  the  German  lan- 
guage, she  had  more  need  of  him  than  ever  befor.e.  He  sighed 
deeply.  His  predicament  was  painfully  embarrassing. 

A  thousand  bonds  attached  him  to  the  gifted  lady ;  she 
treated  him  so  kindly  and  generously,  she  shared  with  him  her 
position  in  society,  and  the  honors  which  were  bestowed  upon 
her;  and,  in  return,  he  was  always  to  deceive  and  cheat  her! 
This  role  oftentimes  was  exceedingly  repugnant  to  his  self- 
love. 

After  passing  several  days  in  the  most  painful  agitation,  he 
wrote  to  M'lle  de  Hardenberg  that  he  could  no  longer  restrair 
his  impatience  to  see  her  again,  and  that  he  was  about  to  has- 
ten to  her.  In  this  manner  he  prevented  her  from  visiting 
him  ;  but  he  was  now  to  verify  his  words,  and  that  was  a  some- 
what difficult  undertaking.  Under  what  pretexts  should  he 


TIIIIKK    MONTHS    AT  .WEIMAR.  387 

enter  upon  this  journey  ?    He  mused  a  long  time  ou  this  prob- 
lem. 

As  he  had  resumed  his  work  on  the  religions  of  the  nations 
with  redoubled  zeal  since  politics  was  silent,  he  thought  ho 
might  use  this  as  a  pretext  ••  I  must  go  for  a  few  days  to  Got- 
tmgen,"  he  said  to  Madame  de  Steel,  "  in  order  to  examine  sev- 
eral works  at  the  University  Library." 
She  looked  at  him  wonderingly. 

"  Could  you  not  defer  that  until  we  reach  Berlin  ?  "  she  asked 
with  an  inquiring  glance. 

"  If  I  could  defer  it,  would  I  wish  to  leave  you  at  this  mo- 
"  he  replied,  in  a  tone  of  irritation.     "  Do  I  deserve  this 
istrust  with  which  you  watch  all  my  steps?    Do  I  deserve 
tins  suspicion  with  which  you  always  look  upon  my  attach- 
ment to  you?    Have  so  many  years  of  an  intimate  acquain- 
tance not  yet  sufficed  to  convince  you  of  the  lasting  character 
of  my  affection,  which,  no  matter  what  may  have  happened 
always  leads  me  back  to   you,  and  causes  me  to  forget  all' 
wrongs  and  injuries  as  soon  as  I  see  you  again  ?  " 

"I  find  that  you  bring  on  this  scene  "without  any  cause 
whatever,"  replied  Madame  de  Stael,  proudly  and  gravely 
'Confidence  deserves  confidence.  I  allow  you  a  full  insight 
into  my  heart ;  you  know  the  motives  of  all  my  actions.  Can 
you  wonder,  Benjamin,  if  my  friendship  for  you  tries  to  give 
me  the  right  to  penetrate  likewise  into  the  inmost  recesses  of 
your  soul  ? " 

"Certainly  not," he  replied,  touched  by  the  gentle  tone  of 
her  voice ;  "  certainly  not,  Germaine.  But  to  desire  confidence 
entertain  suspicion  are  two  widely  different  things  It 
does  not  become  a  man  to  be  called  to  account  for  every  step 
he  makes,  even  by  the  woman  whom  he  esteems  highest  It 
mortifies  and  insults  him  if  she  insists  on  it " 


388  MAUAME   DE   STAEL. 

"  Well,  then,  go,  Constant ;  I  shall  not  ask  you  why  you 
leave  me  at  this  juncture." 

He  kissed  her  hand  gratefully,  and  left  her,  greatly  relieved, 
in  order  to  engage  a  seat  in  the  stage-coach. 

He  felt  that  he  was  wronging  her.  During  the  whole  of 
the  evening  his  eyes  rested  on  her  mournfully.  She  had 
scarcely  been  two  weeks  at  Weimar,  she  was  still  a  perfect 
stranger  to  the  place,  and  he  who  was  so  much  indebted  to 
her,  was  capable  of  leaving  her !  It  seemed  to  him  impossible 
to  part  with  her.  Schiller  and  Wieland  had  arrived,  the  con- 
versation had  become  exceedingly  animated,  and  the  brilliant 
eloquence  of  his  friend  enchanted  his  ears.  What  if  he  should 
never  hear  that  voice  again  ? 

Folding  his  arms  on  his  breast,  he  leaned  against  the  door, 
and  gazed  sadly  upon  the  group  before  him.  The  servant  in- 
formed him  now  that  it  was  time  for  him  to  go  to  the  post- 
house.  He  drew  his  watch  from  his  pocket,  and  found  that 
the  appointed  hour  was  at  hand.  He  threw  it  angrily  on  the 
floor  and  trampled  it  under  foot* 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Wieland  of  him,  in  surprise. 

"The  watch  is  my  enemy;  otherwise,  it  would  not  have 
shown  me  the  minute  calling  me  away  from  here."  He  em- 
braced Madame  de  Stael  as  if  in  despair,  and  rushed  from  the 
room. 

"  The  air  in  Germany  does  not  agree  with  him,"  said 
Madame  de  Stael,  while  her  eyes  followed  him  wonder- 
ingly.  "  He  is  too  old  for  a  period  of  storm  and  stress,  and,  it 
seems  to  me,  is  playing  a  comedy  with  himself.  As  he  is  going 
to  spend  his  Christmas  with  some  old  manuscripts,  he  is  very 
likely  to  feel  at  parting  how  much  he  leaves  here  behind  ;  never- 
theless, he  so  willed  it,  and  he  has  now  to  keep  his  aim  in  view.'' 
*  Letters  of  M'me  de  Stein  to  her  Son. 


THREE   MONTHS   AT   WEIMAK.  389 

This  little  scene  was  soon  generally  known  in  Weimar,  and 
gave  rise  to  a  great  many  rumors.  Goethe  heard  of  it,  too,  and 
became  daily  more  anxious  to  see  the  wonderful  woman,  who, 
Schiller  had  written  to  him,  was  made  of  one  piece,  and  en- 
tirely free  from  strange,  false,  and  incongruous  traits. 

He  determined  at  length,  toward  the  close  of  December,  to  go 
for  one  day  to  Weimar.  Madame  de  Stael  was  prepared  for 
his  visit,  and  received  him  with  more  coldness  than  she  used  to 
display ;  for,  despite  his  indisposition,  she  knew  full  well  that 
he  might  have  visited  her  at  a  much  earlier  day.  His  tardi- 
ness in  coming  to  Weimar  had  offended  her. 

Goethe  spoke  French  very  fluently,  and  met  her  without  the 
slightest  embarrassment.  The  reports  of  his  friends  having 
familiarized  him  beforehand  with  hor  appearance,  he  was  not 
surprised  to  find  that  she  was  not  prepossessing.  They  were 
soon  engaged  in  an  animated  conversation,  while  she  was  roll- 
ing a  small  green  twig  between  her  beautiful  white  fingers,  a 
habit  from  which  she  was  no  longer  able  to  wean  herself.  She 
could  get  along  much  better  with  him  than  with  Schiller,  whose 
idealism — which  in  her  opinion  could  not  but  lead  to  mysticism 
and  superstition— almost  frightened  her.  She  wanted  to  pene- 
trate everything  with  her  mind— to  explain,  perceive,  measure 
everything;  she  would  not  admit  anything  mysterious  and 
inaccessible,  and  that  which  she  could  not  illuminate  with  hei 
torch,  did  not  exist  for  her.* 

Goethe  was  more  favorably  impressed  with  her  from  minute 
to  minute;  and,  at  parting,  he  promised  to  return  speedily  to 
Weimar,  and  to  remain  there  until  her  departure,  if  she  would 
now  accept  his  invitation  and  come  for  a  few  days  to  Jena, 
where  he  wished  to  make  her  acquainted  with  a  guest  who 
would  surpass  all  she  had  hitherto  seen  in  Germany,  and  give 
*  Goethe's  Letters  to  Schiller. 


390  MADAME   DK   STAEL. 

her  a  deeper  insight  into  the  mysterious  realm  of  the  human, 
mind  than  the  philosophy  of  Kant  and  Fichte  could  do. 

"  But  who  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  in  great  surprise.  "  Whom  do 
you  refer  to  ?  You  have  no  Cagliostro  or  St.  Germain,  for 
aught  I  know  1 " 

"  No, but  something  better — a  real  ghost ;  something  without 
a  body — a  genuine  German  apparition  you  shall  see  there 
with  your  wondrously  beautiful  eyes." 

"  But  where  shall  I  find  this  nameless  being?  where  does  it 
stay  ?  where  does  it  walk?  In  this  land  of  legends  and  fairy- 
stories,  I  should  like  to  see  the  places  where  your  ghosts  take 
up  their  abode." 

"  For  this  reason,  I  have  fitted  up  for  you  rooms  in  a  house 
where  a  little  'man,  such  as  our  poets  have  portrayed  to  you, 
walks  about  every  night,  and  will  have  the  honor  to  appear 
before  you  personally.  Will  you  not  be  afraid  of  this  guest  ? " 

"Not  at  all.  I  shall  be  exceedingly  glad  to  form  his  ac- 
quaintance, and  shall  now  be  certain  to  come." 

"  So  you  are  willing  to  grant  to  a  ghost  what  you  refused  to 
me  ?  "  he  said,  leaving  her  smilingly. 

But  whether  Madame  de  Stael  enjoyed  too  healthy  a  sleep, 
or  whether  the  ghost  was  afraid  of  the  celebrated  lady,  with 
whose  language  he  was  perhaps  not  familiar,  he  did  not  make 
his  appearance  during  her  sojourn  at  Jena;  and  upon  her  re- 
turn, she  said  that  only  German  eyes  could  see  German  ghosts, 
for  belief  in  them  would  do  wonders. 

Schiller  always  disliked  such  remarks.  He  did  not  know 
how  to  take  a  jest,  and  raillery  was  distasteful  to  him  ;  he 
scented  in 'every  thing  of  the  kind  personal  allusions,  and  felt 
offended  when  he  should  have  laughed.  But,  he  did  not  know- 
how  to  laugh.  So  he  was  now  very  angry  with  Madame  d« 
Stud  for  boasting  that  the  German  ghosts  had  run  away  before 


THREE   MONTHS   AT  WEIMAR. 

her,  and  said,  "  He  was  not  at  all  surprised  at  that,  inasmuch 
as  Satan's  assistant  himself  would  have  refused  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  her."  * 

Goethe  was  on  better  terms  with  her.  He  confessed  that  he 
had  never  met  with  so  much  mind  in  a  woman,  and  that  he 
would  never  have  deemed  it  possible  to  find  so  gifted  a  woman. 
Her  ardor,  her  glowing  enthusiasm,  made  an  agreeable  im- 
pression on  him ;  he  liked  to  draw  strength  and  inspiration 
from  such  a  flame,  and,  as  Madame  de  Stein  acknowledged, 
became  in  consequence  again  accessible  to  other  noble  ladies. 
However,  nearly  a  month  went  by  before  Goethe-took  up  his 
abode  in  Weimar  again,  and  received  the  distinguished  stranger 
at  his  house.  Her  great  vivacity,  her  constant  questioning, 
denying,  and  arguing  against  the  opinions  of  others,  at  times 
tired  him,  too;  for  he  felt  only  too  well  how  vain  were  their 
endeavors  to  convince  one  another,  when  they  started  from 
such  o'pposite  points. 

Constant  had  meanwhile  suddenly  returned  to  Weimar,  and 
both  his  departure  and  arrival  gave  rise  to  more  rumors  in 
the  small  town,  as  he  took  pains  to  enshroud  his  journey  in  a 
mysterious  veil.  Madame  de  Stael,  who  always  missed  him 
during  his  absence,  received  him  in  the  most  cordial  manner. 
Constant  sat  before  her  in  confusion,  for  falsehood  was  again 
on  his  lips. 

"  I  know  you  have  missed  me,  man  cher  Benjamin,"  she  said 
to  him.  "  No  matter  where  you  may  be,  you  do  not  find  any- 
body to  replace  me.  Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

He  could   answer  this  question  at  least  in  the  affirmative. 

The  mysticism  of  M'lle  de  Hardenberg  had  tried  him,  and  in 

the  long  run  filled  him  with  a  genuine  longing  for  his  gifted 

friend.     He  loved  the  former  because  he  could  rest  at  her  heart. ; 

*  Reminiscences  of  Henrietta  Her/;.  , 


392 

he  was  attracted  toward  the  latter  because  she  was  certain  to 
impart  fresh  elasticity  to  his  mind. 

"  I  wish  to  appoint  an  evening  for  reading  to  my  friends," 
said  Madame  de  Stael ;  "  and  I  rejoice  the  more  to  have  you 
here,  as  your  opinion  concerning  the  play  which  I  shall  read 
will  be  decisive.  What  shall  I  select  ?  " 

"  Read  Macbeth  to  them,  or  perform  Juliet,  a  role  in  which 
you  are  inimitable,"  he  replied. 

"  Yes,  if  there  were  no  women  in  Weimar !  But  they  look 
upon  me  now  already  with  visible  ill-will.  Because  they 
themselves  are  so  insignificant,  they  grudge  me  my  mind.  Ah, 
Benjamin,  if  there  were  more  women  as  gifted  and  cultivated 
as  I  am,  how  different  men  would  be !  Female  society  has 
created  in  Paris  that  spirit  of  conversation,  which  is  so  inimi- 
table, so  seductive,  so  enchanting.  The  influence  which  we 
exercise  over  your  sex  is  incalculable.  But  here  the  women  do 
not  comprehend  their  position;  they  do  not  even  try  to  rule  by 
their  mind,  tact,  and  amiability.  Here  they  choose  husbands 
only  to  become  mothers,  and  forget  that  with  their  minds  they 
shall  educate  citizens  to  their  fatherland." 

"  Their  ill-will  must  not  disturb  you,"  replied  Constant. 
"  The  grapes  are  sour,  says  the  fox,  when  he  cannot  reach 
them." 

"  You  have  learned  that  word  from  me,  Constant,"  said  Mad- 
ame de  Stael,  smiling. 

"  Will  you  censure  me  for  knowing  how  to  pick  up  pearls  ? ' 

She  looked  at  him  tenderly. 

Madame  de  Stael  postponed  her  departure  from  week  to 
week,  and  a  visit  of  a  few  days  was  prolonged  to  one  of  sev- 
eral months.  The  Court  treated  her  in  the  most  flattering 
manner,  and  the  people  of  Weimar  became  more  and  more  ac- 
customed to  the  presence  of  the  stranger  who,  in  the  conscious- 


THREE  MONTHS    AT   WEIMAE.  393 

ness  of  her  superiority,  disdained  the  nimbus  imparted  by  hy- 
pocrisy and  artificial  means.  What  distinguished  her  most 
strikingly  from  other  women,  was  the  frankness  and  straight- 
forwardness of  her  being;  and  what  her  own  sex  feared  more 
than  anything  else,  were  the  words  of  naked  truth  on  her  lips. 

Johannes  von  Miiller  arrived  at  Weimar.  She  wished  to  form 
Us  .acquaintance,  too,  and  postponed  her  departure  again. 
Schiller  almost  grew  impatient  at  it  For  a  short  time,  he  had 
suffered  this  stranger  to  disturb  him  in  his  peculiarities ;  but 
in  the  long  run  he  rebelled  against  being  taken  back,  in  so 
spirited  and  ingenious  a  manner,  from  the  world  of  his  dreams 
into  the  realm  of  reality,  so  that  his  words,  "  The  earth  does 
not  exist  for  me,"  died  away  before  it.  Like  all  idealists,  he 
could  not  bear  contradiction,  and  the  refusal  to  acknowledge 
his  stand-point  always  irritated  him.  And  Madame  de  Stael 
would  not  and  could  not  do  that. 

"  Je  marche  avec  des  sabots  mr  la  terre  quand  on  veut  me  forcer 
a  viure  dans  les  nuages,"  she  said,  smilingly,  when  he  had  left 
he?  in  great  agitation,  after  wrangling  with  her  a  long  time. 

After  her  departure,  Madame  de  Stein  wrote  to  her  son : 

"  I  believe  Madame  de  Stael  has  caused  Goethe  to  long  again 
for  intercourse  with  somewhat  more  cultivated  women  than 
those  who  have  surrounded  him  of  late." 


17* 


THE  HYPERBOREAN  ASS. 

THE  mists  of  winter  still  enshrouded  the  capital  of  Prussia, 
when  Madame  de  Stael  reached  Berlin.  Joseph  Bonaparte  had 
furnished  her  with  the  best  of  recommendations  to  distinguished 
men  in  that  city,  and  especially  had  he  written  to  the  Em- 
bassador,  M.  Laforest,  and  requested  him  to  render  her  sojourn 
at  Berlin  as  agreeable  as  possible  ;  for  the  ill-will  of  the  First 
Consul  was  unable  to  lessen  his  personal  friendship  for  her. 

Upon  her  arrival,  Madame  de  Stael  was  presented  to  the 
Court,  and  received  with  great  distinction.  The  beautiful  Queen 
Louisa  met  her  in  all  her  gracefulness,  and  said  to  her  in  her 
amiable  manner: 

"  <Tespere,  Madnme,  que  vous  me  croyez  trap  bon  gout  pour  n'etre 
jasjlattee  de  wire  arrives  a  Berlin.  Hy  a  longtemps  queje  vous  en 
admireeetfai  ete  impatiente  defaire  votre  connaissance." 

The  King,  too,  took  pains  to  be  courteous  toward  her  in  his 
laconic  manner.  Despite  her  enthusiasm  for  constitutional 
government,  Madame  de  Stael  was  so  much  pleased  with  the 
Prussian  Court  that  she  said,  "  Berlin  etait  un  des  pays  le»plus 
Tieureux  de  Id  terre  et  les  plus  eclaires." 

She  made  the  acquaintance  of  Prince  Augustus ;  but,  abov* 
all,  she  was  most  favorably  impressed  with  the  noble  and  chi- 
valrous bearing  of  Prince  Louis  Ferdinand — his  ardor  and  en- 
thusiasm. Like  herself,  he  sought  les  emotions  qui pen rcn i  <",/i><  r 
In  vie ;  like  herself,  he  hated  Fonaparte,  not  only  as  a 


THE   HYPEKBOKEAN   ASS.  395 

I 

but  also  because  of  the  moral  assassination  which  he  perpe- 
trated by  slandering  those  whom  he  hated,  and  whom  his  arm 
was  unable  to  reach.  "Je  lui  permets  de  tner,  metis  assassiner 
morakment, c'est  IA  ce  qui me revolte"  he  said. 

The  learned  world,  then  so  numerously  represented  at  Ber- 
lin, was  not  long  in  thronging  around  her,  and  the  busy  and 
stirring  life  of  a  great  capital  soon  engrossed  all  her  thoughts. 
The  rumor  that  the  celebrated  lady  was  in  Berlin  spread  like 
wildfire,  and  all  now  wished  to  get  acquainted  with  her  and  to 
be  introduced  to  her. 

The  cultivated  society  at  Berlin  possessed  at,  that  time  already 
its  cdteries,  its  tea-parties,  and  literary  ladies  whose  principal 
task  it  was  to  gather  about  them  a  small  circle  of  gifted  and 
interesting  men.  The  Court,  however,  lived  entirely  apart  from 
this  sphere,  and  only  the  princes  tried  to  gain  access  to  these 
parties. 

A  great  many  of  them  were  held  at  the  houses  of  Sander, 
the  bookseller,  and  of  the  beautiful  and  gifted  Henrietta  Herz  ; 
besides,  Nicolai  and  Kotzebue  received  all  distinguished  for- 
eigners at  their  salons.  Madame  de  Stael  was  introduced  to 
this  circle,  and  thus  met  with  an  opportunity  to  come  in 
contact  with  the  most  cultivated  personages  of  the  Prussian 
capital. 

Kotzebue  had  reached  the  zenith  of  his  fame.  He  had  re- 
cently returned  from  Siberia,  and  written  his  travels,  which  had 
made  him  the  hero  of  the  day.  His  plays  also  were  performed 
amidst  rapturous  applause ;  he  was  the  Scribe  of  his  time,  and 
his  talents  entitled  him  to  the  popularity  which  he  obtained. 

He  lived  on  the  second  floor  of  a  house  on  Tager  Street,  in 
good  style,  which  a  present  from  the  Emperor  Paul,  consisting 
of  three  hundred  serfs,*  enabled  him  to  do.    His  rooms  were 
*  Vide  Recollections  of  Frederick  Laun. 


396  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

the  rendezvous  of  all  strangers,  who  were  received  there  in  the 
most  hospitable  manner. 

Madame  de  Stael  was  not  long  in  directing  her  steps  hither. 
She  was  very  fond  of  the  stage,  and  liked  to  perform  dramatic 
roles.  She  had  assiduously  studied  German  at  Weimar,  and 
was  now  able  to  follow  a  dramatic  performance.  The  witti- 
cisms which  she  did  not  understand,  had  to  be  explained  to  her, 
and  she  laughed  very  heartily  as  soon  as  she  comprehended 
them.  One  of  her  most  ardent  wishes,  upon  her  arrival  at  Ber- 
lin, was  to  get  acquainted  with  the  author  of  so  many  comic 
scenes,  and  to  see  his  comedies  performed  by  Iffland.  She, 
therefore,  sent  Benjamin  Constant  immediately  with  a  note  to 
him,  and  looked  now  impatiently  for  the  arrival  of  the  famous 
dramatist. 

Already  on  the  following  morning,  his  handsome  equipage 
halted  in  front  of  her  house,  and  M.  de  Kotzebue  was  an- 
nounced to  her.  When  he  entered  the  room,  Madame  de  Stacl 
started  back  with  an  involuntary  "Ah ! "  of  surprise.  Her  ima- 
gination had  traced  to  her  a  widely  different  portrait  of  the 
famous  dramatist ;  and  now  she  stood  before  a  man,  who,  aside 
from  a  certain  expression  of  shrewdness,  had  a  very  common 
and  by  no  means  intellectual  face. 

She  begged  him  to  be  seated,  and  hoped  that  the  wit  and  hu- 
mor of  his  conversation  would  indemnify  her  for  this  disap- 
pointment She  was  mistaken,  however.  Kotzebue  was  one 
of  those  men  whose  pens  alone  overflow  with  wit  and  humor, 
but  who  in  their  intercourse  with  the  world  are  grave,  taciturn 
and  laconic.  Lesfrais  de  la  conversation  were  left  to  her  alone. 

However,  he  had  to  reply  to  her  direct  questions,  and  she 
had  no  hesitation  in  asking  him  for  information  concerning  tho 
most  various  subjects.  "  Can  I  be  useful  to  you  in  any  way, 
Madame  ?  "  asked  Kotzebue,  in  the  course  of  the  conversation. 


THE    HYPEKBOREAX    ASS.  39" 

"  Yes,  you  can,  Monsieur,"  she  replied,  politely ;  "  by  afford- 
r  me  the  pleasure  of  your  company  as  often  as  possible  •• 
"  You  are  very  kind.    But  can  I  not  be  useful  to  you  in  some 
her  way,  too,  without  deriving  any  personal  advantage  there- 
from ?    Pray  command  me." 

"I  should  like  to  get  acquainted  with  Tieck,  who  is  said 

»  read  so  exceedingly  well.     I  hear  he  is  every  now  and 

then  m  Berlin.      And  Augustus  William   Schlegel,   who    I 

have  been  told,  is  reading  somewhere,  Calderon's  Devotion  at 

t/ie  Gross." 

"  Unfortunately,  I  am  unable  to  introduce  these  two  gentle- 
men to  you,  for  both  of  them  belong  to  the  new  poetical  school 
which  I  try  to  overthrow  in  the  journal  which  I  have  estab- 
lished here,"  he  replied,  regretfully. 

"  So  there  is  war  between  you-open  war !»  exclaimed  Mad- 
ame de  Stael.    «<I  like  that     There  is  life  and  activity  in  it 
ou  attack  your  adversaries,  you  defend  yourself,  and  thereby 
arrive  at  new  results.    But  may  I  inquire  what  is  the  cause  of 
this  literary  war?  " 

"  They  reproach  us  with  standing  on  the  ground  of  reality 
while  they  want  to  bave  poetry  transferred  to  the  realm  of  en- 
chanting dreams.  They  intend  to  found  a  romantic  school  •• 

"Ah,  if  that  is  the  case,  I  shall  side  with  you,  Monsieur" 
exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael,  warmly.  "I  shall  never  relish 
those  airy  « phantoms  inhabiting  the  mists  of  Ossian,'  and  com- 
ing to  us  from  a  world  which  our  eye  has  not  seen.  Where 
and  how  can  I  meet  those  gentlemen  ?  For  I  should  like  to 
form  their  acquaintance  for  all  that." 

"The  house  of  Madame  Bernardi,  where  Augustus  William 
Schlegel  lives,  is  the  rendezvous  of  their  clique;  just  signify 
your  wish  to  be  introduced  there,  Madame,  and  you  will  be  in- 
vited  immediately." 


398  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

"  But  Iffland  I  shall  find  at  your  house,  Monsieur,  shall  1 
not?" 

"  Certainly,  if  you  will  afford  me  the  pleasure  of  spending 
an  evening  at  my  house,  you  will  meet  him  and  Rhigini,  the 
composer." 

"  Now,  you  must  tell  me  also  all  ahout  Fichte.  I  am  very 
anxious  to  get  acquainted  with  him  in  order  to  penetrate 
the  spirit  of  his  philosophy.  You  must  communicate  to  me 
your  views  about  him." 

"  Well,  I  am  less  familiar  with  that  subject  than  with  theat- 
rical matters,"  replied  Kotzebue,  smiling.  "  Authors  writing 
as  much  as  I  do,  do  not  find  much  leisure  for  reading  all  the 
new  productions  of  literature.  Permit  me,  however,  to  recom- 
mend you  to  read  my  Hyperborean  Ass.  It  will  show  you  the 
standpoint  which  I  occupy,  and  what  I  oppose  in  literature." 

"  The  Hyperborean  Ass !  That  is  a  dreadful  title.  What 
does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  The  Hyperboreans  offered  to  Apollo,  asses  whose  pranks 
amused  him.  In  the  same  manner,  the  world  is  amused  by  the 
senseless  phrases  of  our  opponents,  whose  turgid  twaddle  they 
call  poetry.  Frederick  Schlegel  has  reduced  this  nonsense  to 
a  definite  form  in  his  Lucinde,  and  erected  to  literature  a 
monument  which  cannot  but  cause  it  to  blush.  My  Hyperbo- 
rean Ass  is  to  punish  him  for  it.  We  must  exercise  poetical 
justice,  Madame." 

"  You  are  a  stern  judge,"  said  Madame  de  Stael,  wonder- 
ingly.  "  It  is  here,  then,  tout  comme  dies  nous.  Everybody 
thinks  he  has  found  the  truth  and  hates  those  who  deny  it. 
Philosophy,  I  hope,  will  be  wiser.  I  hope  the  philosophers  are 
brethren,  and  will  together  strive  for  light." 

"  But  one  must  be  the  first  to  find  it,  and  what  will  then  be- 
come of  the  rest  ?  " 


THE   HYPERBOREAN   ASS.  399 

When  he  had  left  her,  Madame  de  Stael  sent  for  Benjamin 
Constant  and  requested  him  to  get  her  a  copy  of  the  Hyper- 
borean Ass,  and  to  invite  Augustus  William  Schlegel  to  visit 

her. 

The  dreaded  animal  appeared  in  the  shape  of  a  small  vol- 
ume of  fifty-eight  pages,  and  contained  in  dramatic  form  an  at- 
tack upon  iMdnde,  Frederick  Schlegel's  notorious  novel,  which 
preached  the  emancipation  of  the  flesh.  She  had  to  read  this 
novel  before  being  able  to  understand  Kotzebue's  book,  and 
for  this  purpose  she  had  need  of  a  teacher.  While  she  was 
looking  at  these  books  and  musing  as  to  whom  she  should  ask 
to  interpret  them  to  her,  Augustus  William  Schlegel  was  an- 
nounced to  her. 

He  entered  the  room  with  the  studied  bearing  and  manners 
of  a  dandy,  and  bowed  deeply  to  the  celebrated  lady.  Mad- 
ame de  Stael  had  risen  and  come  to  meet  him,  in  order  to  thank 
him  for  complying  with  her  request. 

"  You  have  made  me  the  happiest  of  mortals,"  he  said,  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  his  breast.  "  To  gaze  into  these  eyes  which 
promise  a  heaven  to  us,  is  a  bliss  which  is  not  purchased  too 
dearly  at  the  price  of  half  a  lifetime.  I  have  read  your  Del- 
phine,  and  .learned  to  adore  its  authoress.  May  I  respectfully 
press  to  my  lips  to-day  the  hand  that  wrote  such  beautiful 

words?" 

Madame  de  Stael  granted  his  request,  somewhat  surprised 
at  the  stiffness  with  which  the  German  savant  practiced  French 
gallantry.  She  asked  him  to  take  a  seat,  and  then  inquired  of 
him  about  Fichte  and  his  philosophy.  He  would  have  pre- 
ferred speaking  of  himself  and  his  works ;  but  inasmuch  as 
such  were  the  wishes  of  the  lady,  he  took  pains  to  portray 
Fichte's  teachings  and  influence  to  her  with  all  the  eloquence 
at  his  command.  She  listened  to  him  attentively,  interrupted 


400  MADAME   DE    STAEL 

him  with,  many  questions,  and  finally  seemed  much  pleased 
with  him. 

"  You  possess  a  very  fine  talent  to  clothe  your  thoughts  in 
words,  M.  Schlegel,"  she  said ;  "  I  have  not  conversed  in  Ger- 
many with  anybody  whose  conversation  afforded  me  so  much 
pleasure ;  and,  if  you  will  take  the  trouble,  you  can  give  me 
information  on  a  great  many  subjects.  I  understand  you  very 
well,  and  am  much  pleased  with  your  method  of  explaining 
intricate  questions.  Suppose  you  accompany  me  during  my 
journey  ?  I  want  a  tutor  for  my  eldest  son.  If  you  should  be 
willing  to  take  this  situation,  I  should  be  the  gainer,  the  more 
as  I  should  derive  so  much  profit  and  pleasure  from  my  con- 
stant intercourse  with  you." 

"  Your  offer  is  a  very  flattering  one  indeed,"  said  Schlegel, 
in  surprise ;  "  and  nothing  could  be  more  agreeable  to  me  than 
to  live  all  the  time  in  such  close  proximity  to  you ;  but  I  have 
to  devote  too  much  time  to  my  literary  labors,  to  be  able  to  be 
useful  to  your  son.  I  am  engaged  in  translating  Shakespeare, 
and  I  hope  my  production  will  be  creditable  to  me.  I  should 
not  like  to  relinquish  it  now." 

"  You  will  have  plenty  of  spare  time  for  that  purpose,  Monsieur. 
Two  or  three  hours  a  day  would  be  all  the  time  I  should  expect 
you  to  devote  to  my  children.  You  would,  moreover,  be  treated 
with  all  the  consideration  which  an  honored  guest  of  my  house 
may  expect.  The  only  thing  which  I  demand  of  my  son's  tutor 
is  qu'tt  ait  fait  F  amour  et  ne  le  fosse  plus.*  I  believe,  however, 
you  will  be  able  to  fulfill  this  condition.  You  know  the  world 
'and  life,  and  are  done  with  them." 

Schlegel  grew  visibly  confused,  and  hesitated  to  reply. 

"  You  may  think  so,  Madame,  in  regard  to  my  marriage ; 
and  yet  a  man  of  my  age,  and  who  is  perfectly  free  and  inde- 
*Allonville,  p.  312. 


THE    HYPERBOREAN   ASS.  401 

pendent-I  should  not  like  to  promise  you  anything  in   this 
respect." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Madame  de  Stael,  smiling,  '<  let  us  say  no 

nore  about  it  now,  and  you  will  think  of  it.    If  you  will  in 

the  meantime  be  kind  enough  to  read  with  me  for  an  hour 

every  morning,  you  will  put  me  under  great  obligationS)  an(J 

as  you  will  thus  get  better  acquainted  with  me,  you  will  find 

t  whether  or  not  your  constant  intercourse  with  me  would 

smnify  you  for  what  you  would  leave  behind  in  Berlin  " 
"It  would;  you  need  not. doubt  it,"   exclaimed  Schle-el 
I  hesitate  from  a  widely  different  motive     I  °am' 
first  an  author,  and  then  only  a  man.    For  the  time  being  it 
will  afford  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  make  you  acquainted 
with  what  our  Germany  is  able  to  offer  you,  and  I  request 
>  appoint  an  hour  when  I  am  to  wait  upon  you  " 

LO  to-morrow  morning, if  you  please;  I  desire  to  read 
the  Hyperborean  Ass  with  you  ;  owing  to  the  allusions  which 

mtams,  I  am  unable  to  understand  it." 

"What,  the  Hyperborean  Ass?  "exclaimed  Schlegel  in  sur- 

pn*     "My  antagonist's  book?    Why  do  you  wish  to  read  it »» 

The  author  recommended  it  to  me,  and  I  am  anxious  to  see 

what  your  literary  quarrels  are  about,  and  why  you  wage  war 

with  each  other." 

«;it  is  envy  on  his  part-nothing  but  envy,"  warmly  ex- 

daimed  Schlegel.    -But  we  have  managed  to  avenge  ourselves. 

e  frivolous  comedies,  destitute  as  they  are  of  any  genuine 

•ue,  and  by  no  means  in  keeping  with  our  civilization,  excite 

>e  enthusiasm  of  the  multitude,  and  make  their  author  more 

popular  than  any  other  literary  man.    Wecannot  tolerate  this- 

we  shall  annihilate  him ;  we  must  annihilate  him  •• 

should  be  very  sorry  if  you  did;  for  he  entertains  me 
very  pleasantly,  and  I  like  to  laugh,"  said  Madame  de  Stael 


402  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

"  If  such  be  the  case — if  these  trivial  comedies  entertain  you, 
I  shall  keep  silent,"  replied  Schlegel,  angrily,  and  left  the 
room. 

"  Strange,  very  strange,"  said  Madame  de  Stael,  shaking  her 
head,  after  the  door  had  closed  after  him.  Although  she  could 
not  approve  the  spirit  from  which  these  enmities  arose,  tlicy 
amused  her,  and,  to  inform  herself  about  this  literary  war,  she 
asked,  wherever  she  went,  if  the  old  or  new  poetical  school 
was  represented  there.  But  at  her  own  receptions,  representa- 
tives of  both  parties  were  present,  and  the  most  relentless 
enemies  met  there  quite  unexpectedly.  After  one  of  these 
soirees  she  wrote  to  Wieland  : 

"BEKLrn,  March  31,  1804. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Wieland,  I  am  here  in  Berlin,  amidst  a  rather 
noisy  social  life;  but  at  heart  I  long  for  the  pleasant  intercourse 
which  I  held  with  all  of  you  in  Weimar.  I  was  received  here 
with  the  utmost  politeness ;  but  people  in  Berlin  have  no  time 
to  see  enough  of  one  another,  so  that  their  acquaintance  always 
remains  a  superficial  one  ;  and  the  complete  separation  of  Ihe 
two  societies,  that  of  the  court  and  that  of  the  literary  world, 
imparts  to  the  former  often  a  most  tiresome  frivolity.  They 
speak  French  here,  and  make  French  calembours  ;  and  yet, 
ignorant  as  I  am  of  the  German  language,  I  long  for  the  quaint 
humor  with  which  you  speak  French,  inasmuch  as  I  am  con- 
vinced that  Germany  will  not  be  the  gainer  in  imitating  our 
French  sprightliness. 

"  I  have  seen  the  learned  men  here.  Fichte,  Ancillon,  and 
Spalding  interest  me  most  among  them.  I  caused  Kotzebue 
and  Schlegel  to  meet  in  the  same  room,  as  might  have  been 
expected  of  a  stranger  to  whom  their  private  feuds  were  un- 
known ;  and  I  told  Schlegel  that  he  injured  not  you,  but  him- 
self, by  attaching  the  foremost  literary  celebrities  of  Europe. 


THE    HYPEEBOKEAX    ASS.  403 

How  I  regret  that  the  time  is  past  when  there  was  still  a 
noble  emulation  between  the  savants  and  authors  of  Germany ! 
I  repeat  it;  only  Frenchmen  are  able  to  insult  each  other 
gracefully." 

"I  cannot  do  anything  here  but  read  German  books  with 
Schlegel,  who  has  kindly  consented  to  be  my  teacher.  Trans- 
lations and  studies  are  incompatible  with  four  invitations  par 
jour.  But  I  have  been  told  that  social  life  would  be  much 
duller  in  the  month  of  June. 

"  Tell  me  that  you  still  love  me,  and  that  you  still  protect  my 
life  by  your  wishes  and  friendship.  1  have  written  to  your 
seductive  Duchess,  as  you  call  her,  and  addressed  three  letters 
to  M'lle  de  Goechhausen,  with  the  request  to  remember  me  to 
you.  Did  she  do  so  ? 

"  I  have  not  yet  written  to  Goethe.  You  call  him  my  favori  te, 
without  bearing  in  mind  that  I  must  be  more  attached  to  you, 
because  you  are  more  susceptible  of  love.  Adieu,  adieu ;  give 
me  your  poetical  blessing ;  I  prefer  it  to  that  of  Capuchins  and 
Idealists.  Adieu ! 

"N.  DE  STAEL." 


CHAPTER  XL 

AN  EVENING  WITH    HENRIETTA  HERZ. 

MADAME  DE  STAEL  had  rented  the  ground-floor  of  a  house 
on  the  banks  of  the  Spree,  which  reminded  her  of  those  of  the 
Seine,  and,  therefore,  filled  her  every  now  and  then  with  the 
illusion  that  she  was  in  her  dear  Paris. 

One  morning,  when  she  was  yet  fast  asleep,  her  maid  woke 
her  up,  and  informed  her  that  Prince  Louis  Ferdinand  was  halt- 
ing on  horseback  under  her  window,  and  wished  to  see  her. 
It  was  not  yet  eight  o'clock.  Much  surprised  at  the  unseason- 
able time  of  his  visit,  she  rose  in  haste  and  stepped  to  the  win- 
dow in  order  to  speak  with  him. 

The  Prince  presented  a  very  handsome  appearance.  The 
fresh  morning  air,  as  well  as  a  certain  agitation,  added  to  the 
charms  of  his  prepossessing  face  to-day.  Madame  de  Stael's 
eyes  rested  with  pleasure  and  admiration  on  his  fine,  chivalrous 
form  as  he  saluted  her. 

"  I  wish  to  inform  you,"  he  began,  "  that  the  Duke  of 
Enghien  has  been  arrested  on  the  soil  of  Baden  and  carried  to 
Vincennes,  where  a  military  commission  has  sentenced  him  to 
be  shot  This  outrage  has  filled  me  with  the  most  intense  in- 
dignation." 

"  What  a  story ! "  replied  Madame  De  Stael.  "  Do  you  not 
see,  Prince,  that  the  enemies  of  France  have  invented  and  cir- 
Vilated  it  ?  " 

"  If  you  do  not  believe  what  I  say,"  said  the  Prince,  "  I  shall 
send  you  the  Moniteur  containing  the  sentence." 


AN    EVENING   WITH    HENRIETTA    HEKZ.  405 

So  saying,  he  spurred  his  horse  and  galloped  off,  with  an 
air  expressive  of  vengeance  or  death. 

Madame  de  Stael  withdrew  thoughtfully  from  the  window. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward,  a  footman  brought  her  the 
number  of  the  Moniteur  containing  the  account  of  the  execu- 
tion of  the  Duke  of  Enghien,  and  a  letter  from  the  Prince, 
which  read  as  follows  : 

"  Louis  of  Prussia  sends  to  Madame  de  Stael  the  paper  to 
which  he  referred,  and  it  affords  him  pleasure  that  he  will 
meet  her  to-day  at  the  house  of  the  Duchess  of  Courland."  * 

He  wrote  thus  because  he  was  perfectly  beside  himself  at 
the  disgrace  inflicted  upon  the  royal  blood  of  the  Duke  of 
Enghien. 

Madame  de  Stael  now  convinced  herself  of  the  truth  of  the 
intelligence  which  he  had  communicated  to  her.  She  paced 
the  room  in  great  agitation,  and  soliloquized  aloud  in  order  to 
give  vent  to  her  indignation.  With  her  heart  still  overflowing 
with  bitter  feelings,  she  finally  dressed  herself  in  order  to  drive 
to  the  Duchess  of  Courland,  who  had  invited  her  to  dinner. 

The  Duchess  had  but  few  guests  to-day.f  Madame  de  Stael 
met  at  her  house,  beside  Prince  Louis  Ferdinand,  Johannes 
von  Mtiller  and  Henrietta  Herz,  whose  beauty  and  grace  made 
the  most  agreeable  impression  upon  her.  The  conversation 
referred  exclusively  to  the  mournful  fate  of  the  unfortunate 
Duke  of  Enghien ;  and  it  was  not  until  after  dinner— when. 
Prince  Augustus  and  several  other  gentlemen  made  their  ap- 
pearance— that  it  became  more  cheerful. 

Madame  de  Stael  requested  every  guest  to  tell  her  something 
about  Fichte's  philosophy,  which  she  wished  to  understand. 
These  requests  were  frequently  somewhat  out  of  place  and  em- 

*  "  Dix  Annies  d'Exil,  par  Madame  de  Stael." 
t "  Keminiscences  of  Henrietta  Herz." 


406  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

barrassing,  inasmuch  as  it  was  difficult  to  say  much  about  so 
grave  a  subject  in  a  company  of  merry  guests.  So,  when  Prince 
Augustus  greeted  her  to-day,  he  asked  her,  jocosely,  if  she  had 
already  succeeded  in  mastering  the  whole  of  Fichte's  philoso- 
phy. "  Oh!  fy  paroiendrai"  she  replied,  most  decidedly,  but 
withal  with  a  sharpness  of  tone  showing  very  plainly  that  she 
had  understood  the  hidden  meaning  of  the  question. 

As  she  knew  that  Henrietta  Herz  was  ultimately  acquainted 
with  Augustus  William  Schlegel,  she  embraced  the  opportunity 
to  inform  her  that  she  was  anxious  to  engage  him  as  a  tutor 
for  her  children,  and  that  she  could  not  imagine  what  pre- 
vented him  from  accepting  her  offers,  inasmuch  as  she  was 
ready  to  fulfill  all  conditions  which  he  might  impose  upon  her. 

"  Voiis  avez  quelgue  ascendant  sur  lui"  she  said  to  her  in  the 
course  of  the  conversation.  "  All  I  want  him  to  do  is  to  give 
German  lessons  to  my  son  and  daughter ;  the  rest  of  his  time 
shall  belong  to  him.  His  pretext  is  that  translation  of  Shake- 
speare at  which  he  is  working ;  but  I  cannot  see,"  she  ex- 
claimed, very  warmly,  "  why  he  must  live  in  Berlin  in  order 
to  translate  the  English  poet.  Pray  persuade  him  to  accept 
my  offers." 

The  fact  was,  that  Schlegel  wished  to  remain  at  the  Prussian 
capital,  not  on  account  of  the  English  poet,  but  for  the  sake  of 
a  lady  of  Berlin.  He  was  the  devoted  friend  of  Sophie  Ber- 
uarcli,  nee  Tieck,  afterwards  Madame  de  Knorring.  As  soon 
as  Madame  de  Stael  learned  this,  she  requested  Henrietta  Herz 
to  invite  Schlegel  and  his  fair  friend  to  a  soiree  at  her  house, 
that  she  might  get  acquainted  with  the  lady.  But  Sophie 
Bernardi  did  not  speak  a  word  of  French ;  the  two  ladies, 
therefore,  would  be  unable  to  converse  with  each  other ;  and 
Henrietta  Herz,  foreseeing  the  painful  embarrassment  of  an 
mjervicw  between  them,  hesitated  to  fulfill  the  wish  of  her 


AN    EVENING-   WITH    HENRIETTA    HERZ.  407 

celebrated  friend.  Madame  de  Stael,  however,  would  not  per- 
mit her  to  refuse  her  request,  and  so  she  appointed  a  day  when 
Necker's  daughter  was  to  meet  Sophie  Bernard!  at  her  house. 
"  Je  la  verrai  parler  I "  exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael,  with  her 
irresistible  vivacity,  and  impatiently  looked  forward  to  the 
hour  when  she  was  to  form  the  acquaintance  of  the  lady  whom 
Schlegel  admired  so  intensely. 

Henrietta  Herz  had  invited  a  large  number  of  guests,  in 
order  to  mask  Madame  de  Stael's  intention  as  much  as  possi- 
ble ;  it  would  have  been  marvelous,  however,  if  Sophie  Ber- 
nard! had  not  divined  it,  nevertheless.  For  no  sooner  did  she 
address  a  word  to  Schlegel,  than  Madame  de  Stael  would  say  to 
him  with  her  habitual  vivacity,  "  Qu'est  ce  qu'dle  ditf  "  and  as 
he  stood  behind  her  chair,  he  could  not  but  translate  to  her  the 
remarks  which  Sophie  had  made.  He  rendered  them,  how- 
ever, by  no  means  faithfully.  When  Sophie  had  said  anything 
at  which  Madame  de  Stael  might  take  umbrage,  he  changed 
the  meaning  of  her  words.  This  caused  the  other  guests  to 
smile,  and  Henrietta  Herz  finally  was  fearful  lest  Madame  de 
Stael  should  notice  it  and  take  umbrage  at  it.  So,  in  order  to 
prevent  an  unpleasant  scene,  she  suddenly  put  a  stop  to  the 
deceitful  conduct  of  the  distinguished  translator.  Sophie  Ber- 
nard! asserted  that  the  French  language  was  not  musical  at  all, 
and,  hence,  unfit  for  singing ;  when  Madame  de  Stael  asked 
Schlegel, "  Qu'est  ce  qtfelle  ditf"  he  translated  a  remark  bestow- 
ing  a  flattering  encomium  on  the  melodious  element  of  the 
French  language.  Henrietta  Herz  then  corrected  the  translator ; 
and  Madame  de  Stael,  instead  of  propounding  any  further 
questions  to  him,  contented  herself,  as  she  had  promised,  with 
hearing  Sophie  Bernardi  speak. 

Madame  de  Stael  gave,  during  her  sojourn  in  Berlin,  every 
Friday,  a  soiree,  to  which  she  never  invited  more  than  three 


408  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

ladies.  Henrietta  Herz  was  frequently  among  them,  and  she 
was  invited  also  to  the  last  party  which  Madame  de  Stael  gave 
in  the  Prussian  capital.  Her  other  female  guests  were  the 
Duchess  of  Courland  and  Madame  de  Berg,  and  the  conver- 
sation was  exceedingly  animated,  sprightly,  and  interesting. 
Especially  amiable  was  Prince  Louis  Ferdinand,  who  was  even 
kind  enough  to  offer  Madame  de  Stael  to  have  his  piano 
brought  to  her  house,  and  play  to  her  guests  on  Friday  next. 

But — man  proposes,  and  God  disposes.  On  Friday  next, 
Madame  de  Stael  was  not  to  be  any  longer  in  Berlin.  A  sud- 
den end  was  put  to  her  sojourn  in  that  city,  by  the  intelligence 
that  her  father  had  been  taken  sick.  She  had  been  but  six 
weeks  at  the  Prussian  capital  when  this  mournful  news 
reached  her,  and  suddenly  thwarted  all  her  plans.  The  phi- 
losophy of  the  German  professors  was  immediately  forgotten, 
the  Hyperborean  Ass  was  flung  aside,  the  many  new  relations 
were  broken  off,  her  trunks  were  hurriedly  packed,  and  she 
set  out  for  Coppet.  She  did  not  know  yet  the  terrible  calamity 
that  haJ  befallen  her ;  she  was  still  full  of  hope  and  confidence 
and  refused  to  yield  to  serious  apprehensions. 

It  was  not  until  she  reached  Weimar  that  another  letter  in- 
formed her  of  what  had  occurred.  Her  grief  knew  no  bounds  ; 
her  words,  her  tears,  were  those  of  despair ;  she  had  fits  and 
convulsions ;  she  screamed  and  raved  ;  and  was,  in  the  full  sense 
of  the  word,  on  the  verge  of  madness. 

Madame  de  Stein  to  Tier  Son. 

"  WEIMAR,  April  29, 1804. 

"  Madame  de  Stael  returned  from  Berlin  before  Goethe  was 
able  to  answer  her  letter,  because  her  father  had  died  in  the 
meantime.  She  sets  no  bounds  to  her  grief,  has  convulsions, 
and  screams  and  wails  all  the  time  amidst  her  streaming  tears. 


AN    EVENING   WITH    HENBIETTA   HEKZ.  409 

How  sad  it  is  that  Nature  did  not  add  a  little  wisdom  to  all 
the  extraordinary  talents  which  it  bestowed  upon  her.  But  that 
is  wanting  to  her.  William  Schlegel  accompanies  her  as  tutor 
of  her  son,  Augustus.  She  will  set  out  to-morrrow  for  Coppet. 

"  She  was  unable  to  compose  herself.  Her  grief  had  so  over- 
powered her  that  her  physical  indisposition  prevented  her  soul 
from  recovering  its  tranquillity. 

"  "William  Schlegel  and  Constant  sat  opposite  to  her  in  the 
traveling-coach,  and  took  the  utmost  pains  to  console  her  ;  but 
all  their  efforts  were  in  vain.  She  felt  that  no  one  would  ever 
love  her  as  her  father  had  loved  her ;  that  no  one  would  hence- 
forth accompany  her  in  her  life -path  with  so  much  solicitude, 
confidence,  and  tenderness,  as  he  had  done ;  and  the  most  ter- 
rible loneliness,  that  of  the  heart,  fell  like  a  pall  on  her  soul. 

"  '  One  day — one  more  day,'  she  exclaimed,  imploringly,  that 
she  might  see  him  once  more,  hear  his  dear  voice  again,  and 
read  in  his  eyes  that  he  perceived  and  pitied  the  grief  of  his 
child ;  but  this  one  day — who  did  not  implore  it  in  the  course 
of  his  life,  and  who  did  not  hear  the  terrible, '  No  ? 

"  For  the  first  time,  the  dread  silence  of  the  grave  struck  terror 
into  her  heart ;  for  the  first  time,  this  weird  stillness  and  lone- 
liness caused  her  restless  and  active  soul  to  tremble.  Her  eyes 
gazed  upon  the  landscape  around  her,  in  order  to  discover  in  it 
a  picture  analogous  to  her  grief;  she  contemplated  the  trees  of 
the  forest  in  their  beautiful  foliage,  in  the  lovely  verdure  of 
May,  and  envied  them  for  their  constantly  renewing  vitality, 
which  enables  them  to  outlive  centuries ;  and  to  man,  whose 
mind  embraces  time  and  eternity,  was  granted  but  such  a  brief 
span,  scarcely  sufficient  to  perceive  the  good,  but  not  to  reach 
it!" 

Bcttina  von  Arnim  to  GoetJie's  Mother. 

"  This  time  I  am  angry  with  you,  Madame ;  why  did  you  not 
18 


410  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

send  me  Goethe's  letter?  Since  August  13th,  I  have  not  re- 
ceived a  line  from  him,  and  now  September  is  already  drawing 
to  a  close.  Madame  de  Stael  may  have  helped  him  to  while 
his  time  away,  so  that  he  did  not  think  of  me.  I  dined  with 
her  yesterday  in  Mayence  ;  as  the  other  ladies  refused  to  sit  by 
her,  I  took  the  seat  next  to  her.  It  was  uncomfortable  enough, 
as  the  gentlemen  crowded  around  the  table  in  order  to  speak 
with  her  and  look  her  in  the  face.  They  even  bent  over  me  ; 
and  when  I  said, '  Vos  odorateurs  me  suffoquent]  she  laughed. 
She  told  me  that  Goethe  had  alluded  to  me  in  his  conversa- 
tions with  her;  I  sat  still  in  order  to  learn  what  he  had  said 
about  me ;  and  yet  I  was  displeased,  for  I  do  not  want  him  to 
talk  of  me  with  anybody ;  and,  after  all,  I  do  not  believe  that 
she  told  me  the  truth ;  finally,  the  crowd  of  men  bending  over 
me,  in  order  to  converse  with  her,  became  so  large  that  I  could 
not  stand  it  any  longer ;  so  I  said  to  her,  '  Vos  lauriers  me 
pesent  trap  fort  sur  les  epaules.1  I  rose  and  elbowed  my  way 
through  the  throng  of  her  admirers.  Then  Sismondi,  her 
companion,  came  to  me,  kissed  my  hand,  told  me  I  was  very 
talented,  and  said  so  to  others,  too ;  and  they  repeated  it  at  least 
twenty  times,  as  if  I  were  a  prince  ;  for  everybody  admires  all 
that  princes  say  and  do,  no  matter  how  insignificant  it  maybe. 
Afterwards  I  listened  to  what  she  said  about  Goethe ;  she  told 
us  she  had  expected  to  find  another  Werther,  but  she  had  been 
mistaken,  neither  his  bearing  nor  his  figure  being  in  keeping 
with  that  character,  which  had  greatly  disappointed  her. 
Madame  Goethe,  I  waxed  wroth  at  these  remarks.  Turning 
to  Schlegel,  I  said  to  him  in  German,  '  Madame  de  Stael  was 
mistaken  both  in  her  expectation  and  opinion  of  Goethe  ;  we 
Germans  expect  that  Goethe  will  have  no  difficulty  in  pro- 
ducing twenty  heroes  that  would  make  the  same  deep  im- 
pression on  the  French ;  and  we  believe  and  know  that 


AN    EVEXIVG    WITH    HENRIETTA    HEKZ.  4JJ 


he  himself  is  a  wldely  differeut  Md  much 

-hlegel  has  acted  foolishly  in  not  imparting  to  her  better  jn. 


''  "'*  which 

been  playmg,  on  the  floor;  I  put  my  foot  on  it,  pushed 
.side  and  walked  away.    That  is  all  I  can  tell  you  about 
the  celebrated  lady.  .» 

Whenthetravelersapproachedthemountains  of  Switzerlano 
Constant  pointed  out  to  her  a  cloud,  bearing  the  shape  of  a 

igantc  man,  and  which,  after  covering  a  summit  for  some 
time  disappeared  at  setting-in  of  night  Madame  de  Stoel 

**ed  upon  it  as  a  sign  sent  her  from  Heaven  ;  she  considered 
t  a  symbol  of  the  life  of  ner  father,  whose  existence  was  now 

frora  her  view  by  the  gloom  °f  an 


Her  grief  was  heart-rending  when  she  reached  Coppct  and 
entered  the  room  which  he  had  inhabited,  where  everything 
reminded  her  of  him,  and  everything  spoke  to  her  of  him* 
:Iere  she  was  now  to  live  without  him  whose  love  had  shed  so 
much  sunshine  over  her  path,  and  who  alone  had  known  how 
to  render  her  abode  endurable.    To  the  last  moments  of  his 
:e  had  occupied  himself  with  her,  with  the  most  affectionate 
sohdtude;  during  the  nine  days  of  his  sickness  he  had  only 
tercd  her  name  and  thought  of  her,  only  manifested    the 
*  uneasiness  concerning  her  future,  and  expressed  deep 
•egret  at  having  published  his  last  work,  and  thereby  brought 
abou  his  daughter's  exile,  which  would  be  more  intolerable  to 
her  than  ever  before,  when  she  would  not  be  welcomed  at  Cop- 
pet  by  anything  but  the   graves  of   her   parents     With  • 
trembling  hand  he  had  written,  yet  in  the  heat  of  his  fever  to 
-Consul,  and  assured  him  that  Madame  de  Stael  had 
d  nothing  to  do  with  the  publication  of  his  last  book,  and 
ad,  on  the  contrary,  requested  him  not  to  issue  it. 


412  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

There  is  a  wondrously  persuasive  power  in  the  words  of  a 
dying  person.  It  seemed  impossible  that  the  last  prayer  of  a 
roan  who  had  borne  so  conspicuous  a  part  in  the  history  of 
France,  and  who  implored  the  First  Consul  to  permit  his  child 
to  return  to  her  native  country,  should  be  disregarded.  With 
this  hope  Necker  had  closed  his  eyes. 

When  his  daughter  heard  of  this  step  of  her  father's,  she 
thanked  him  tearfully  for  the  tender  solicitude  with  which  he 
tried  on  his  death-bed  to  enable  her  yet  to  return  to  her  dear 
Paris. 

She  could  not  believe  that  the  First  Consul  would  turn  a 
deaf  ear  to  such  a  supplication.  But  when  she  heard  that  her 
father's  letter  had  made  no  impression  on  him,  she  smiled  bit- 
terly at  the  folly  of  her  expectation  that  the  death  of  a  man 
would  hush  the  hatred  of  a  Napoleon. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE  settlement  of  her  private  affairs  had  afforded  Madame 
de  Stael  a  certain  diversion  from  her  grief,  and  engrossed  all 
her  thoughts.    Up  to  her  father's  death  he  had  attended  to  all 
her  business,  and  saved  her  all  the  trouble  connected  therewith 
t  was,  therefore,  an  entirely  unwonted  task  for  her  to  enter 
upon  the  management  of  the  vast  fortune  which  she  now  in- 
i-ited  of  him,  beside  the  two  million  francs  which  Necker 
had  lent  to  the  French  Government  during  the  Revolution,  and 
which  France  had  never  refunded  to  him. 

Little  as  this  kind  of  business  was  to  her  taste,  she  deter- 
mined not  to  intrust  it  to  others,  but  to  watch  personally  over 
the  fortune  which  she  wa*  resolved  to  hand  down  intact  to 
her  children. 

She  devoted  herself  to  this  task  with  praiseworthy  circum- 

:tion.     She  did  not  want  anybody  to  say  that,  gifted  as  she 

was  in  other  respects,  she  was  disqualified  to  fulfill  the  practical 

requirements  of  life.     She  had  to  indemnify  her  children  for 

ss  of  her  father,  and  she  was  determined  to  do  so 
Her  son  Augustus,  who  was  on  the  verge  of  adolescence,  had 
been  educated  by  his  grandfather  alone.     It  was  now 
incumbent  on  her  to  direct  his  education  and  to  watch  over 
studies.    The  lessons  which  Schlegel  gave  him  were  insuffl- 
Ment ;  and  as  she  was  prevented  from  living  in  Paris,  she  went 
•  the  time  to  Geneva,  where  good  schools  and  teachers  of  all 
branches  of  knowledge  were  at  her  command. 


414  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

These  duties  and  occupations  produced  a  favorable  effect 
upon  her  state  of  mind,  and  added  to  her  tranquillity.  As  long 
as  she  remained  as  active  as  she  was  now,  as  long  as  these  exi- 
gencies of  reality  knocked  at  her  door,  she  forgot  her  grief,  and 
experienced  a  certain  satisfaction  at  the  thought  that  she  was 
acting  in  consonance  with  the  wishes  of  her  late  lamented 
father,  and  that  she  was  certain  of  his  approbation.  This  con- 
sciousness did  her  good,  and  imparted  fresh  strength  to  her. 

At  length,  however,  everything  was  settled;  lawyers  and 
courts  no  longer  claimed  her  attention,  and  a  profound  silence 
reigned  again  around  her.  Her  children  were  poring  over  their 
books  ;  Schlegel  worked  with  them  or  for  himself;  Benjamin 
Constant  read  the  papers,  cast  longing  glances  up  to  the  clouds, 
all  of  which  he  thought  were  moving  towards  Paris,  and 
turned  over  the  works  of  Schiller  and  Goethe  in  order  to  find 
something,  the  translation  of  which  might  render  him  as  famous 
as  Schlegel  had  become  by  that  of  Shakespeare;  for  his  vanity 
craved  for  applause ;  he  could  not  bear  a  life  of  tranquillity ;  he 
was  bound  to  play  a  role,  and  to  obtain  laurels  as  an  actor  on 
the  political  stage. 

His  presence  could  not  comfort  and  soothe  Madame  de  Stael, 
but  only  entertain  and  excite  her.  He  was  exceedingly  elo- 
quent, he  argued  with  her,  he  raised  paradoxes  and  dropped 
them  again,  and  these  intellectual  contests  diverted  both  of 
them  for  hours. 

It  was  still  impossible  for  her  to  take  up  a  book.  Whenever 
she  was  vividly  excited,  whenever  she  was  a  prey  to  pain  or 
grief,  she  was  unable  to  turn  her  thoughts  upon  anything  not 
connected  with  it.  Such  was  now  the  case  again.  She  turned 
over  page  after  page,  and  did  not  know  what  she  was  reading. 

In  her  present  state  of  mind,  she  was  only  able  to  write ;  but 
ehe  lacked  the  courage  to  do  so.  Her  father  could  no  longer 


MADAME   BE   STAEL's   JOUBNEY   TO   ROME.  415 

read  what  she  wrote ;  he  could  no  longer  rejoice  at  the  encomi- 
ums bestowed  upon  her;  he  alone  had  taken  such  an  affec- 
tionate interest  in  her;  without  him  she  felt  lonely  and  de- 
serted. 

"  Why  do  you  complain  of  loneliness  ?  "  Constant  said  to  her. 
"  Is  friendship,  then,  nothing  to  you  ?  Am  I  not  here  to  share 
sunshine  and  tempest  with  you  ?  Do  I  not  stand'by  your  side 
to  rejoice  at  your  successes  ?  Do  you  care  so  little  for  niy  ap- 
plause that  you  do  not  deem  it  worth  while  to  write  in  order 
to  obtain  it  ?  Is  your  muse  silent  when  she  is  to  play  her 
cithera  before  me  ?  " 

Madame  de  Stael  shook  her  head  mournfully.  "Only  a 
father  can  love  purely  and  disinterestedly,"  she  said,  sadly ; 
"  he  alone  rejoiced  truly  at  my  successes.  But  you,  Benjamin,' 
with  all  your  friendship  for  me,  you  resemble  all  men  in 
granting  to  your  self-love  the  first  place  in  the  catalogue  of 
your  passions." 

So  saying,  she  left  the  room. 

Benjamin  Constant  looked  after  her  in  surprise.  No  doubt, 
he  felt  that  she  did  not  misjudge  him. 

Ever  since  her  father's  death,  Madame  de  Stael  had  been  in 
feeble  health.    A  doctor  was  sent  for,  and  declared  that  only  a 
change  of  place,  a  different  climate,  other  people  and  other 
surroundings,  could  dispel  her  grief  and  cure  her  of  her  sleep- 
lessness.   He  therefore  advised  her  to  go  to  Italy  and  spend 
the  winter  in  Rome,  whose  art-treasures,  he  hoped,  would 
arouse  her  from  the  apathy  following  in  the  wake  of  Ion-con- 
tinued grief.    She  had  to  follow  this  advice,  but  insisted  on  not 
leaving  Coppet  until  she  had  written  a  biography  of  her  father, 
which  was  to  show  to  the  world  what  virtues  he  had  possessed,' 
from  what  motives  he  had  acted,  what  he  had  been  as  a  hus- 
band and  father,  and  how  dearly  he  had  loved  his  daughter. 


410  MADAME   I>E   STAEL. 

After  performing  this  task,  she  was  ready  to  undertake  a  jour- 
ney upon  which  she  entered  without  hope  or  joy,  and  filled  with 
forebodings  of  her  death. 

All  night  long  she  walked  about  like  a  restless  ghost.  To 
put  an  end  to  her  fast-increasing  sleeplessness,  the  physician 
prescribed  the  use  of  opium,  which,  since  that  time,  she  was 
unfortunately  unable  to  give  up  again. 

Augustus  William  Schlegel  was  not  long  in  accustoming 
himself  to  his  new  position.  He  treated  the  gifted  lady  with 
so  much  courtesy  and  kindness,  and  bestowed  such  enthu- 
siastic encomiums  on  her  genius,  that  Benjamin  Constant 
could  not  refrain  from  suspecting  that  the  German  professor 
desired  to  be  even  more  than  a  friend  and  the  tutor  of  her  chil- 
dren. The  present  circumstances,  however,  were  decidedly 
unfavorable  for  bringing  about  closer  relations  between  the 
two.  Her  grief  was  so  profound  that  she  took  his  efforts  to 
please  her  as  expressions  of  his  compassion,  and  thanked  him 
in  this  spirit. 

The  eldest  son  of  Madame  de  Stael  was  already  a  youth,  and 
assisted  his  mother  with  the  kindness  and  prudence  of  a  friend  ; 
she  treated  him  thus,  and  asked  on  all  occasions  his  advice 
and  approval.  His  boundless  love  rewarded  her  for  this  confi- 
dence. 

The  summer  months  had  slowly  elapsed  in  this  manner. 
Benjamin  Constant  had  profited  by  them  to  begin  a  translation 
of  Schiller's  WaUemtein.  While  she  was  working  at  the  bio- 
graphy of  her  father,  and  therefore  had  no  need  of  him  dur- 
ing the  morning  hours,  he  could  devote  himself  uninterrupt- 
edly to  this  task. 

At  noon  she  made  her  appearance,  with  eyes  red  with  weep- 
ing, in  her  family  circle.  The  recollections  of  past  days,  the 
jotting  down  of  so  many  affectionate  remarks  which  her 


MADAME    DE    STAEL's   JOURNEY   TO    ROME.  417 

father  had  addressed  to  her  during  the  closing  months  of  his 
ife,  filled  her  eyes  again  and  again  with  tears. 

She  wrote  these  reminiscences  in  the  same  cabinet  of  the 
ha-teau  of  Coppet  where  Necker  had  worked-at  the  very 
window  where  his  writing-table  had  stood.  There  she  had  a 
fine  view  of  the  grove  where  a  monument  had  been  erected 
over  his  grave,  as  well  as  of  the  long  alley  where  he  always,  at 
parting,  had  waved  to  her  a  last  farewell. 

She  called  to  mind  an  evening  in  the  preceding  autumn, 
when  she  had  sat  by  his  side  at  the  same  spot,  and,  filled  per- 
haps with  a  momentary  foreboding  of  the  loss  that  was  5u 
store  for  her,  had  asked  him  what  was  to  become  of  her  if  she 
should  ever  be  compelled  to  live  without  him. 

"My  child,"  he  had  answered  in  a  broken  voice,  "  Dim  mes- 
ure  le  vent  mix  brebis  depouttlees." 

"Ah! "she  now  said  to  herself,  "I  am  very  unhappy  I 
have  neither  a  country  nor  a  home:  the  grave  of  my  parents 
is  my  only  home." 

But,  profound  as  her  grief  was,  never  did  it  render  her  hard- 
hearted; never  did  she  forget  her  friends,  and  become  indiffer- 
ent to  that  which  concerned  them.  Thus  she  wrote  to  Mad- 
ame Recamier,  when  that  beautiful  lady  lost  her  fortune: 

GENEVA,  Nov.  17,  1804. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Juliette,  how  much  pain  that  dreadful  intelli- 
gence has  given  me ;  how  I  execrate  an  exile  which  prevents 
me  from  hastening  to  you  and  pressing  you  to  my  heart !  You 
have  lost  all  that  makes  life  sweet  and  agreeable;  but  even 
though  you  were  better  loved  and  still  more  interesting  than 
you  are,  the  same  calamity  would  have  befallen  you.  I  shall 
write  to  M.  Recamier  and  tell  him  how  much  I  pity  and  honor 
him.  Bat  tell  me,  would  it  be  possible  for  me  to  see  you  here 
18* 


418  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

this  winter? — if  you  could  make  up  your  mind  to  pass  three 
months  in  a  small  circle  where  you  would  be  received  in  the 
most  affectionate  manner?  But  then  your  friends  in  Paris 
are  sure  to  treat  you  in  the  same  manner.  Enfin,  I  shall  go  at 
all  events  to  Lyons,  or  to  the  utmost  limit  of  my  forty  leagues 
in  order  to  see  you,  embrace  you,  and  tell  you  that  I  love  you 
better  than .any  woman  in  the  world.  I  do  not  know  how  to 
comfort  you,  save  by  saying  that  the  noble  traits  of  your  gen- 
erosity and. benevolence  will  become  more  conspicuous  in  ad- 
versity than  ever  before.  Your  circumstances,  no  doubt,  are 
no  longer  what  they  were;  still,  could  I  envy  her  whom  I 
love,  I  should  give  everything  in  order  to  be  you.  A  beauty 
unequaled  throughout  Europe,  a  stainless  reputation,  a  proud 
and  generous  character — what  sources  of  happiness  even  in 
this  life ;  ou  Von  marche  sidepouille. 

"  Dear  Juliette !  May  our  friendship  grow  firmer  and  firmer ; 
may  it  be  strengthened,  not  only  by  the  generous  services  which 
you  have  rendered  me,  but  by  a  continued  correspondence 
and  the  mutual  desire  of  a  constant  interchange  of  feelings 
and  of  a  common  life.  Dear  Juliette,  you  might  obtain  for  me 
permission  to  return  to  Paris,  for  you  are  always  an  all-power- 
ful personage,  and  we  should  then  see  each  other  every  day ; 
and  as  you  are  younger  than  I,  you  would  close  my  eyes,  and 
my  children  would  be  your  friends.  My  daughter  has  wept 
to-day  over  the  tears  of  both  of  us.  Dear  Juliette,  the  afflu- 
ence which  surrounded  you  has  served  to  afford  us  pleasure ; 
your  fortune  was  ours,  and  I  feel  as  if  I  were  poor  because  you 
are  no  longer  rich.  Believe  me,  those  who  are  loved  so  dearly 
are  still  happy. 

"  Benjamin  will  write  to  you ;  he  grieves  at  your  misfortune. 
Mathieu  de  Montmorency  wrote  me  a  very  touching  letter  con- 
cerning you.  Dear  friend,  may  your  heart  throb  calmly  amidst 


MADAME   DE   STAEL's   JOUEKEY   TO    EOME.  419 

so  much  grief!  Alas !  Neither  the  death  nor  the  indifference 
of  your  friends  threaten  you ;  they  alone  are  incurable  wounds. 
Adieu,  dear  angel,  adieu  !  I  reverently  kiss  your  sweet  face." 

At  length,  on  the  25th  of  October,  1804,  Madame  de  Stael 
had  arranged  the  posthumous  papers  of  her  illustrious  father, 
and  sent  them  to  the  printer  with  the  sketch  which  she  had  writ- 
ten of  his  character  and  private  life ;  it  was  not  till  then  that  she 
set  out  for  Italy. 

Hitherto  she  had  not  shown  a  due  appreciation  of  the  fine 
arts.  With  the  exception  of  music,  of  which  she  was  passion- 
ately fond,  she  was  indifferent  to  everything  which  did  not  en- 
gross the  mind.  It  was  not,  until  now,  under  the  mild  sky 
of  happy  Italy,  that  she  was  to  awake  to  other  views,  and 
learn  to  enjoy  with  her  eyes.  A  new  world  arose  before  her; 
a  new  life  dawned  upon  her. 

Accompanied  by  Schlegel,  Benjamin  Constant,  and  her  chil- 
dren, she  visited  Rome  and  Naples.  Although  she  had  entered 
upon  her  journey  in  the  gloomiest  state  of  mind,  the  novelty 
of  the  scene  made  an  overwhelming  impression  on  her,  and 
hushed  all  her  mournful  recollections.  The  fine  arts  brought 
their  powerful  influence  to  bear  on  her.  Paris,  politics,  the 
longing  of  her  lonely  heart,  the  memories  of  the  past,  all  the 
grief  of  the  present,  faded  away  at  the  contemplation  of  the 
countless  monuments  which  so  many  ages  had  accumulated. 
She  breathed  a  different  air,  she  heard  another  language,  the 
centuries  of  the  past  spoke  to  her,  and  unrolled  the  most  re- 
mote periods  before  her  view.  In  Rome  she  met  the  fair- 
haired  young  Canova,  whom  she  had  formerly  received  at 
her  house  in  Paris;  she  met  there,  furthermore,  the  two 
Humboldts,  Eliza  von  der  Recke,  a  number  of  savants  and 
artists  from  all  quarters  of  the  globe,  and,  finally,  Sophie 
Bernardi,  from  Berlin,  who  had  come  to  Rome  probably  in 


420  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

order  to  see  if  the  gifted  Schlegel  had  not  forgotten  her,  exposed 
as  he  was  all  the  time  to  the  rays  of  the  lustrous  eyes  of  the 
most  interesting  lady  on  earth.  If  she  met  with  a  sore  disap- 
pointment, and  if  his  fidelity  had  not  stood  the  test,  she  con- 
fessed only  to  herself. 

Joseph  Bonaparte  had  furnished  Madame  de  Stael  also  with 
letters  of  introduction  to  eminent  men  in  Rome,  in  order  to 
make  her  sojourn  there  as  pleasant  as  possible ;  so  she  met 
with  the  most  flattering  reception.  Her  house  became  speedily 
the  rendezvous  of  the  most  distinguished  personages ;  and  in 
the  midst  of  this  brilliant  circle,  her  genius  beamed  as  a  bright 
star,  and  animated  all  who  approached  her. 

Her  gift  of  improvisation,  her  skill  in  reciting  poetry  and 
performing  dramatic  'roles,  awoke  here  to  renewed  life ;  and  as 
if  the  applause  and  admiration  bestowed  upon  her,  and  her 
new-born  enthusiasm  for  the  fine  arts,  kept  her  in  a  constant 
state  of  rapturous  excitement,  she  forgot  herself,  and  the 
real  happiness  that  was  wanting  to  her  heart,  and  her  grief 
was  hushed  for  a  while. 

Her  impressions  gave  rise  to  the  creation  of  a  new  work  of 
art,  and  Corinne — a  book  with  which  all  my  readers  are 
familiar,  was  the  fruit  of  her  sojourn  in  Rome. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
NAPOLEON'S  HATRED. 

MADAME  DE  STAEL  returned  from  Italy,  in  the  summer  of 
1805,  with  a  rich  store  of  recollections,  and  took  up  her  abode 
again  at  Coppet.  Time  had  exercised  its  soothing  influence 
over  her.  She  had  learned  to  do  without  the  ever-watchful 
solicitude  of  her  father;  she  had  accustomed  herself  to  his 
eyes  no  longer  following  her  every  step,  and  to  his  approval  no 
longer  stimulating  her  energy  and  ambition.  Gentle  melan- 
choly filled  her  heart  when  she  arrived  at  Coppet,  and  met  him 
no  longer  in  the  rooms  where  he  had  welcomed  her  so  often 
with  tender  glances  and  words  of  affectionate  consolation. 

In  order  not  to  relapse  into  her  former  grief,  she  now  began 
to  work  very  assiduously  at  her  Cvrinne.  This  occupation,  as 
well  as  the  instruction  of  her  children,  which  she  herself 
directed  in  part,  kept  her  busy  during  the  morning  hours,  while 
the  afternoon  and  evening  belonged  to  her  friends. 

Guests  were  not  wanting  at  her  house,  where  everybody  met 
with  the  most  hospitable  reception.  The  name  of  Madame  de 
Stael  had  already  obtained  a  world-wide  celebrity.  All  stran- 
gers who  came  into  that  part  of  Switzerland  took  pains  to  visit 
Coppet.  Hence,  there  were  plenty  of  visitors  during  the 
summer  and  autumn ;  and  only  in  the  winter  months  reigned  at 
Coppet  that  monotony  which  is  so  tedious  to  inhabitants  of  a 
large  city.  In  order  to  escape  from  this  stillness,  she  removed 
to  Geneva  as  soon  as  the  roads  were  passable  again. 


422  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

The  social  life  of  this  city  did  not  afford  her  much  pleasure, 
inasmuch  as  the  austere  republican  ladies  of  Geneva  treated 
her  with  marked  disrespect,  and  their  prudery  shrank  from  the 
frank  and  straightforward  bearing  of  the  gifted  lady.  Their 
views  of  propriety  were  stiff  and  narrow-minded,  the  tone  of 
the  Parisian  salons  grated  on  their  ears,  and  the  social  customs 
of  the  French  capital  gave  umbrage  to  them. 

It  was  impossible  for  Madame  de  Stael  to  make  concessions  to 
the  prejudices  of  others.  Her  motto  was,  "  Fais  ce  gue  dots, 
udi-ienne  que  pourra."  She  set  no  other  bounds  to  what  she 
would  do,  and  would  not  do,  than  such  as  were  in  consonance 
with  her  inclinations  and  taste,  and  she  refused  to  be  restrained 
in  this  respect  by  persons  who  were  mentally  so  greatly  infe- 
rior to  her.  This  pride  and  firmness  made  her  unpopular. 

Those  who  do  not  go  with  the  multitude,  will  incur  its 
enmity,  and  it  is  then  a  dangerous  opponent. 

The  fair  but  austere  ladies  of  Geneva  visited  Madame  de 
Stael's  parties,  but  only  to  censure  her  bitterly  for  reading,  re- 
ciling  poetry,  performing  dramatic  roles — in  short,  doing  all  she 
could  to  entertain  herself  and  her  guests  as  pleasantly  as  pos- 
sible. Because  they  themselves  did  not  possess  these  talents, 
she  was  not  to  display  them  in  their  presence. 

The  ever  restless  and  active  mind  of  Madame  de  Stael  stimu- 
lated also  the  friends  who  lived  at  her  house  to  measure  their 
own  strength  by  a  higher  standard.  The  intellectual  at- 
mosphere in  which  they  moved,  produced  a  crushing  effect 
upon  weak  minds,  but  it  added  to  the  vigor  of  intellects  strong 
enough  to  breathe  it.  Such  was  the  case  with  Augustus 
William  Schlegel,  whose  energy  and  enthusiasm  were  greatly 
enhanced  since  he  lived  at  the  house  of  this  remarkable 
woman,  who  knew  how  to  awaken  slumbering  talents,  and  un- 
earth hidden  treasures. 


NAPOLEON'S  HATRED.  423 

Whenever  there  were  no  visitors,  each  of  the  three  read  in 
the  evening  what  they  had  written  during  the  day,  and  listened 
to  the  criticisms  of  the  hearers.  This  interchange  stimulated 
the  ambition  and  efforts  of  all  of  them. 

Madame  de  Stael  read  the  chapters  of  Corinne,  as  thev 
were  completed,  to  this  small  circle  of  friends,  who  listened  to 
the  work  with  admiration  and  astonishment.  They  felt  that 
the  heroine  was  the  authoress  as  she  wished  to  be,  and,  in  fact, 
was,  with  the  exception  of  Corinne's  beauty.  Her  own  heart- 
struggles,  the  disappointments  with  which  she  had  met,  her 
thirst  of  fame,  her  bearing  toward  the  world,  the  weakness  of 
the  men,  everything  was  here  idealized  and  presented  to  the 
hearers  in  a  form  of  great  artistic  beauty ;  and  the  authoress 
and  heroine  often  embarrassed  them  greatly  by  asking  them 
what  they  thought  of  the  work. 

Benjamin  Constant,  especially,  recognized  himself  but  too 
often  in  Lord  Nelvil,  although  he  took  good  care  not  to  confess  it. 
Very  disagreeable  feelings  would  steal  upon  him  on  such  occa- 
sions. He  then  turned  his  eyes  searchingly  upon  Schlegel  in 
order  to  see  whether  or  not  he  suspected  who  was  meant ; 
Schlegel,  however,  seemed  to  notice  only  the  artistic  form  of 
the  work,  without  paying  any  attention  to  the  source  whence 
the  subject  had  been  taken.  He  bestowed  the  most  eloquent 
encomiums  on  the  authoress,  and  predicted  that  she  would  ob- 
tain a  celebrity  such  as  no  woman  had  ever  enjoyed  before. 

Schlegel  did  not  suspect  the  painful  interest  which  Benjamin 
Constant  took  in  the  work,  and  he  therefore  often  called  upon 
him  to  join  in  his  praise,  but  such  exhortations  were  wasted. 
He  persisted  in  keeping  silence,  because  he  felt  greatly  offended, 
although  he  refused  to  confess  it  even  to  himself.  The  picture 
of  his  own  weakness  arose  before  him  so  distinctly,  as  he  heard 
the  delineation  of  Lord  Nelvil's  character,  that  he  felt  a  sort  of 


424  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

exasperation  against  Madame  de  Stael,  which  he  vainly  tried 
to  master.  His  wounded  self-love  refused  to  be  soothed. 

In  order  to  get  rid  of  these  disagreeable  impressions,  he  like- 
wise began  to  write  a  novel  which  he  entitled  Adolphe.  He 
depicted  in  it  his  soul-struggles,  and  represented  himself  the 
victim  of  a  passion  which  he  was  unable  to  return ;  but,  de- 
spite his  persistent  efforts  to  hold  the  heroine  responsible  for 
the  embarrassing  position  of  the  hero,  we  find  here  again  a 
feeble  character,  whose  will  is  always  overcome  by  his  inclina- 
tions. He  himself,  however,  did  not  perceive  the  strong  re- 
semblance which  the  hero  of  his  novel  bore  to  his  own  charac- 
ter, and,  while  he  wrote  this  book,  he  enjoyed  the  silent  triumph 
of  what  he  considered  his  complete  justification.  The  winter 
passed  amidst  many  little  wranglings  between  him  and 
Madame  de  Stael,  and  in  the  spring  she  left  Geneva  in  order  to 
return  to  her  dear  France. 

She  was  still  exiled  from  Paris,  but  was  at  liberty  to  take  up 
her  abode  at  a  distance  of  forty  leagues  from  the  capital,  and 
she  now  tried  to  find  a  place  where  she  might  superintend  the 
publication  of  her  new  work. 

Her  eldest  son,  Augustus,  whom  her  father  had  educated, 
and  who  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  him,  both  in  his  appear- 
ance and  character,  had  entered  the  Polytechnic  School ;  he 
was  thus  enabled  to  visit  her  at  least  once  a  week ;  and  no 
one.  she  thought,  would  prevent  her  from  going  every  now 
and  then  to  Paris,  the  control  at  the  gates  of  the  city  being 
not  so  rigorous  as  that  she  needed  to  fear  lest  she  should  be 
refused  admittance  upon  her  arrival.  Fouche,  she  knew, 
was  decidedly  averse  to  needless  rigor.  Bonaparte,  who  was 
then  at  the  acme  of  his  power,  had  little  to  fear  from  a 
woman,  who  was  now,  moreover,  exclusively  occupied  with 
literary  labors,  and  he  would  certainly  not  carry  his  personal 


NAPOLEON'S  HATRED.  425 

hatred  toward  her  so  far  as  to  resort  to  extreme  measures 
against  her. 

Madame  de  Stael  went,  in  the  first  place,  to  Auxerre ;  after 
residing  there  for  some  time  without  being  molested  by  the 
authorities,  she  moved  to  Rouen ;  and  as  the  Government  still 
failed  to  throw  any  obstacle  in  the  way  of  her  return  to  the 
capital,  she  ventured  to  approach  Paris  again  by  several  stages, 
and  took  up  her  abode  at  Auberge  en  Ville,  where  her  friends 
could  visit  her  more  frequently  than  before. 

Here  she  saw  Mathieu  de  Montmorency  at  her  house ;  here 
she  was  visited  by  her  beautiful  friend,  Madame  Recamier ; 
here  she  yielded  again  to  the  whole  charm  of  Parisian  society. 
Augustus  William  Schlegel  now  saw  her  for  the  first  time  in 
her  proper  element.  All  the  memories  of  her  past  happiness 
awoke  again  in  her  mind ;  all  the  dreams  of  her  youth  arose 
agaiu,  before  her  eyes.  That  sweet  happiness  for  which  she 
had  vainly  longed  for  so  many  years,  appeared  before  her  soul 
in  the  radiance  of  renewed  hope ;  and  the  thirst  of  fame,  which 
had  once  engrossed  her,  filled  her  breast  again  with  irresistible 
desires.  What  if  the  appearance  of  her  Gorinne  should  realize 
her  proudest  dreams  ? 

She  could  now  hear  from  her  friends  in  Paris  daily,  nay, 
hourly ;  every  minute  she  was  able  to  hold  intercourse  with 
her  acquaintances ;  seated  on  the  balcony  of  her  villa,  she  gazed 
upon  the  road  and  espied  those  who  intended  to  surprise  her 
with  their  visit.  She  was  delighted  with  this  change  in  her 
circumstances,  and, built  on  that  which  she  had  already  obtained, 
the  hope  of  still  greater  favors.  After  approaching  so  close  to 
Paris,  she  thought  she  would  soon  be  permitted  to  return  to  the 
capital. 

"  Ah,  Constant,"  she  said  one  day,  when  this  subject  en- 
grossed ull  her  thoughts,  "  I  believe  the  future  will  indemnify 


426  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

me,  after  all,  for  the  sufferings  and  privations  which  I  have 
undergone.  I  think  it  would  be  delightful  for  me  to  return  to 
Paris  at  the  very  time  when  my  Corinne  appears,  and  to  wit- 
ness with  my  own  eyes  the  impression  which  my  book  will 
make  on  the  public." 

"  There  is  no  capitol  in  Paris,"  he  said,  sneeringly ;  "  the  Pa- 
risians do  not  crown  female  poets  ;  heroes  alone  obtain  honor 
and  glory  in  that  city." 

"  The  applause  of  my  friends  will  crown  me ;  I  shall  read 
my  praise  in  their  faces,  and  be  happy ;  they  will  love  me  on 
account  of  my  talents,  and  their  growing  attachment  will  offer 
me  the  most  beautiful  laurel- wreath." 

"  I  doubt,  it,"  he  replied. 

"  You  doubt  it  ?  "  she  asked,  in  surprise. 

"  Because  Corinne,  despite  her  triumphs,  died  of  a  broken 
heart,"  he  replied,  harshly. 

"  You  can  tell  me  so,  Benjamin ! "  exclaimed  Madame  cle 
Stael,  passionately.  "  You  can  reproach  me  with  that  ?  Do 
you  not  feel,  then,  how  contemptible  such  language  is  toward 
a  woman  who  might  have  been  indebted  to  you  for  her  greatest 
happiness,  and,  inasmuch  as  she  was  unable  to  obtain  it,  went 
in  search  of  consolation  wherever  she  could  find  it  ?  You  are 
cruel." 

"  You  do  not  know  yourself,  Germaine,"  replied  Constant, 
in  an  unusually  grave  tone.  "  You  think  that  your  restless 
spirit,  and  the  yearning  of  your  heart  for  happiness,  is  owing 
to  the  lack  of  a  certain,  indissoluble  tie  attaching  you  to  a  man 
whom  you  love ;  but  you  are  mistaken.  Matrimony  is  a  state 
of  tranquillity,  and  tranquillity  is  repugnant  to  you.  Wedded 
life  confines  all  emotions  to  certain  limits,  and  you  love  only 
that  which  exceeds  these  limits  ;  wedded  life  requires  mutual 
forbearance,  while  you  want  to  see  the  man  of  your  heart  at 


KAPOLEON'S  HATKED.  427 

your  feet,  and  insist  on  dominating  him.  Every  man  is  afraid 
of  such  a  yoke.  You  have  led  me,  your  younger  companion, 
into  the  path  of  fame,  Germaine ;  I  have  admired  your  genius ; 
your  conversation  enchanted  me ;  and  no  matter  how  often  I 
attempted  to  break  loose  from  you,  I  was  always  irresistibly 
drawn  back  toward  you,  and  I  could  not  help  returning  to  her 
whom  I  intended  to  flee.  In  this  struggle  my  best  years  have 
elapsed ;  will  you  reproach  me  with  having  sacrificed  them  to 
you?  Believe  me,  it  was  better  for  us  that  no  indissoluble 
bonds  united  us,  and  that  we  were  mutually  free.  Had  we  been 
chained  to  one  another,  the  compulsory  character  of  our  in- 
tercourse might  have  turned  our  love  into  hatred;  while  now, 
when  the  years  of  passion  have  gone  by,  the  noblest  relations 
of  friendship  will  remain  to  us  for  the  evening  of  our  life." 

"  Remain  to  us,  Constant  ?    But  who  tells  me  that  you  will 
remain  to  me?"  exclaimed  Madame   de  Stael,  passionately. 
"Is  not  everything  in  life  subject  to  constant  changes?    Who 
warrants  me  that  you  will  not  form  new  relations  and  leave 
me?    What  then?    Attached  to  you  by  an  intercourse  of  so 
many  years,  I  shall  remain  all  alone,  with  the  crushing  con- 
sciousness of  being  spurned  and  deserted  by  my  old  friend  ! 
I  have  always  looked  forward  fearfully  to  this  contingency 
and  tasted  its  whole  bitterness  beforehand  in  portraying  it  in 
my  Corinne.    There  is  no  happiness  for  a  woman  save  in  wed- 
ded life ;  she  must  be  sure  of  one  friend ;  she  must  kno  w  ^  rela- 
tion in  life  not  subject  to  a  sudden  change ;  she  must  be  able 
cast  anchor  somewhere  on  this  little  earth,  where  nothino-  is 
stable.    Who  warrants  me  that  you  will  not  desert  me  Con- 
stant?" 

"  I  myself,"  he  replied,  in  a  faltering  voice.    « I  myself,  Ger- 
maine ! " 

She  gazed  at  him,  thoughtfully,  for  a  moment. 


428  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

"  You  yourself?  "  she  then  repeated,  incredulously.  "  Yes, 
if  you  could  be  responsible  for  yourself!  For  your  sake,  Ben- 
jamin, I  have  incurred  the  frowns  of  the  world.  I  have  pur- 
chased the  happiness  of  having  you  at  rny  house  with  many  a 
tear,  for  which  ray  children  may  call  me  to  account  one  day. 
My  attachment  to  you  has  caused  many  a  sad  hour  to  my 
noble  father ;  and  I  shall,  perhaps,  meet  with  the  grievous  disap- 
pointment to  find  that  I  built  everything  on  sand.  I  have  a 
foreboding  as  if  bitter  hours  are  in  store  for  me,  in  consequence 
of  my  connection  with  you." 

"  Why  are  you  so  distrustful  of  me  ?  "  exclaimed  Constant, 
in  confusion.  "  What  is  this  distrust  grounded  on  ?  " 

"  On  your  character,  Benjamin.  In  order  to  stand  firm,  you 
have  need  of  a  prop,  of  a  support.  You  are  a  child  of  the  mo- 
ment ;  every  new  impression  carries  you  away ;  you  cannot  be 
responsible  for  yourself;  moreover,  I  find  that  your  conduct 
toward  me  has  undergone  a  marked  change  since  our  return 
from  Italy.  What  ails  you  ? " 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Germaine,  you  have  offended  me 
by  the  delineation  of  Lord  Nelvil's  character.  I  do  not  deserve 
it." 

"Why  do  you  recognize  yourself  in  a  picture  which,  you 
say,  bears  no  resemblance  to  you  ?  "  she  asked,  smilingty. 

He  was  at  a  loss  for  a  reply,  and  in  his  mortification  re- 
proached her  with  preferring  Augustus  William  Schlegel  to 
him.  She  burst  into  loud  laughter. 

"  In  that  event,  you  have  found  a  rival  who  resorts  to  artifi- 
cial means  in  order  to  please  me,"  she  replied,  alluding  to 
SchlegePs  careful  toilet,  which  made  him  look  like  a  fop,  and 
gave  rise  to  many  jests  on  the  part  of  Madame  de  Stael. 

At  this  moment  they  were  interrupted  by  a  visitor,  and  a  con- 
versation to  which  it  would  be  diflicult  for  them  to  recur,  was 


NAPOLEON'S  HATRED.  42g 

brought  to  a  sudden  close.  Ochlenschlager,  the  gifted  young 
Dane,  was  announced  to  Madame  de  Stacl,  who  was  greatly 
surprised  to  see  before  her  the  poet  from  the  distant  North 
with  whom  her  Mend,  Frederica  Brun,  the  female  poet  of 
Copenhagen,  had  made  her  acquainted. 

She  received  him  in  the  most  cordial  manner,  and  invited 
him  to  visit  her  at  Coppet,  during  his  journey  in  Switzerland, 
and  to  spend  some  time  at  her  house. 

"  You  must  get  acquainted  with  Schlegel, »  she  said,  casting 
iling  glance  on  Constant,  to  punish  him  a  little  for  his 
jealousy.    « I  am  sure,  M.  de  Rebecque  will  be  kind  enough  to 
call  him." 

Schlegel    made  his    appearance,  and  was    introduced  by 
Madame  de  Stael  in  a  manner  indicative  of  her  desire  to  dis- 
tinguish him;  for  she  felt  that  his  vanity  would  not  permit 
stay  at  her  house  merely  as  tutor  of  her  children  and 
she  took  pains  to  inform  every  guest  of  the  distinguished 
services  which  he  had  rendered  to  literature,  and  of  his  talents 
»  an  author,  before    mentioning  the  duties  which  he  had 
promised  to  perform  toward  herself  and  her  children     Her 
nerosity  and  kind-heartedness  would  not  suffer  the  world  to 
look  down  on  Schlegel,  on  account  of  the  valuable  services 
which  he  rendered  to  her  and  to  her  house. 

Carinna  was  printed  and  published.  Madame  de  Stael 
awaited  with  breathless  impatience  the  impression  which  this 
work  would  make  upon  the  public,  and  the  fruits  which  she 
would  reap  from  it  so  far  as  the  emperor  was  concerned.  She 
did  not  anticipate  the  grievous  disappointment  with  which  she 
was  destined  to  meet. 

She  was,  therefore,  perfectly  dumbfounded  when  she  was 
informed  that  a  new 'decree  of  exile  was  about  to  be  jssued 
against  her.  On  the  first  anniversary  of  her  father's  death,  she 


430  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

received  the  order  to  part  again  with  her  friends  and  to  leave 
her  Parisian  home.  She  refused  for  a  long  time  to  believe  that 
the  Government  had  really  issued  this  order ;  and  when  she 
could  no  longer  doubt  it,  she  gave  way  to  her  despair.  Wring- 
ing her  hands,  she  paced  her  rooms,  and  heart-rending  sobs 
and  groans  choked  her  words.  If  she  was  not  to  be  allowed  to 
reside  in  Paris — if  she  was  not  to  enjoy  there  the  applause  and 
admiration  of  her  friends  and  contemporaries,  life  had  lost  its 
charms  for  her,  and  she  felt  that  she  would  pine  away  in 
sorrow  and  despair. 

She  was  treated  unjustly,  and  she  had  no  arms  to  defend 
herself.  Napoleon  was  now  so  great  and  powerful,  how  could 
his  glory  be  dimmed  if  the  Parisians  should  occupy  themselves 
awhile  with  a  woman  who  had  written  a  good  book  ? 

But  her  lamentations  did  not  move  him — her  tears  left  him 
cold. 

She  was  compelled  to  leave  Paris  and  return  to  Coppet, 
She  submitted  to  stern  necessity  with  sighs  and  tears. 

Schlegel  and  Constant  accompanied  her.  Constant  did  not 
conceal  his  dejection ;  for  he  was  loth  to  leave  France,  which 
he  likewise  considered  his  native  country,  and  almost  indispen- 
sable to  his  happiness. 

"  Oh,  how  I  long  to  turn  back,"  said  Madame  de  Stael, 
when  they  reached  the  frontier  of  France,  and  cast  a  longing 
glance  toward  the  country  which  she  was  to  leave  now  for 
years,  and  perhaps  for  ever.  "  11  y  a  comme  une  joutssance 
physique  dans  la  resistance  a  un  pouvair  injuste"  she  added.  But 
what  resistance  was  she  to  offer  to  Napoleon  ? 
/  "  France  grieves  at  the  departure  of  her  muse,"  said  Schlegel, 
in  the  florid  manner  to  which  he  had  accustomed  himself  as  a  pub- 
lic speaker.  "  Nothing  can  be  more  flattering  to  you  than  that 
a  Napoleon  should  deem  his  glory  dimmed  by  your  presence." 


NAPOLEON'S  HATRED.  431 

I  shall  no  longer  sing  now,"  said  Madame  de  Stael,  mourn- 
fully.  "  The  caged  nightingale  is  silent ;  and  exile  is  to  me  a 
prison." 

"  And  so  it  is  to  others,"  said  Constant,  peevishly.  "  Had 
you  praised  Napoleon,  instead  of  censuring  him,  we  should 
now  be  very  merry  in  Paris." 

"  And  I  should  have  sacrificed  my  convictions  to  my  in- 
terests, and  lost  my  self-respect.  Did  you  wish  me  to  do 

that?" 

"  All  we  men  expect  of  women  is  that  they  should  be  ami- 
able, and  try  to  please  us,"  replied  Constant,  carelessly.  "  As 
regards  the  more  serious  affairs  of  life,  we  shall  attend  to  them 

alone." 

Madame  de  Stael  gazed  at  Constant;  when  their  glances 
met,  he  dropped  his  eyes.  She  contemplated  him  for  a  minute, 
while  he  sat  blushing  before  her ;  she  then  averted  her  face 
without  adding  another  word,  and  spoke  with  Schlegel  on  an- 
other subject. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

PKtNCE  AUGUSTUS  AT  COPPET. 

PEACE  had  been  concluded.  Europe  breathed  more  freely, 
and  looked  forward  to  its  blessings  with  renewed  hopefulness. 
The  soldiers  hastened  back  to  their  homes,  in  order  to  recreate 
themselves  in  the  bosom  of  their  families,  and  social  life  as- 
sumed a  more  brilliant  and  animated  character.  Prince  Au- 
gustus of  Prussia  profited  by  this  opportunity  to  make  a  trip 
to  Switzerland,  and  visited  Coppet  in  order  to  greet  Madame 
de  Stael,  whose  acquaintance  he  had  made  at  Berlin,  and 
whom  he  had  learned  to  esteem,  at  her  own  house. 
He  arrived  quite  unexpectedly. 

Since  her  return  to  Switzerland,  Madame  de  Stael  had  been 
at  work  upon  an  important  book  on  Germany,  which  required 
considerable  preparatory  studies.  The  first  chapter  was  com- 
pleted, and  she  was  about  to  read  it  to  Schlegel  and  Constant, 
when  the  Prince  was  announced  to  her.  Uttering  an  "Ah" 
of  agreeable  surprise,  she  rose,  in  order  to  go  to  meet  the 
august  guest 

She  received  him,  not  ceremoniously,  but  with  the  utmost 
cordiality.  Prince  Augustus  was  still  in  the  prime  of  life,  his 
uniform  sat  exceedingly  well  on  him,  and  there  was  in  his 
bearing  something  chivalrous,  which  made  a  most  agreeable 
impression,  and  to  which  Madame  de  Stael  was  by  no  means 
insensible.  She  talked  with  him  about  Berlin,  about  her  so- 
journ in  that  city,  and  the  numerous  common  friends  of  whom 


1KINCK   AUGUSTUS   AT   COPPET.  433 

the  hurry  of  her  departure  had  prevented  her  from  taking 
leave,  and  all  of  whom  yet  lived  warmly  in  her  remembrance. 

They  had  not  yet  sat  long  together  and  chatted  of  the  past 
and  present,  of  Berlin  and  Paris,  when  the  door  opened,  and  a 
charming  lady  entered  the  room  with  a  light  swinging  step. 
She  stood  still  and  blushed  when  she  perceived  the  strange 
guest ;  already  she  was  about  to  turn  to  the  door  in  her  timidity, 
when  Madame  de  Stael,  casting  a  sidelong  glance  of  triumph 
toward  the  Prince,  seized  her  hand,  and  begged  leave  of  her 
guest  to  present  to  him  her  friend,  Madame  Recamier. 

This  name  was  not  unknown  to  the  Prince,  for  the  rare 
beauty  of  its  bearer  had  already  familiarized  all  Europe  with 
it.  The  more  was  he  surprised  at  her  appearance,  which  bore 
no  resemblance  to  the  picture  which  his  imagination  had  drawn 
of  her. 

This  girlish  bashfulness  of  a  lady  accustomed  to  the  triumphs 
of  her  charms,  astonished  him ;  and  this  timidity  of  a  beauty  of 
whom  the  most  decided  self-consciousness  might  have  been  ex- 
pected, was  inexplicable  to  him. 

He  remained  standing  before  her  as  if  spell-bound.  He  felt 
strongly  tempted  to  kneel  down  before  this  lovely  creature  and 
worship  her.  He  had  much  difficulty  in  regaining  his  com- 
posure, and  concealing  what  was  going  on  in  his  mind. 

"  Fortune  smiles  on  me,"  he  said  at  last.  "  Genius  and 
beauty,  in  their  most  fascinating  form,  are  going  to  indemnify  me 
for  the  hardships  of  war.  How  am  I  to  resist  such  a  reunion  ?  " 

"  Stay  with  us,  sire,"  exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael.  "Let  us 
nurse  you,  and  try  to  recreate  yourself  here." 

"I  should,  no  doubt, find  here  the  most  charming, but  withal 
the  most  dangerous  recreation,"  replied  the  Prince,  casting  a 
significant  glance  on  Madame  Recamier,  who  was  looking  at 
him  with  sweet  naivete. 
19 


434  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

He  did  stay,  not  for  days  or  weeks,  but  for  several  months, 
and  thought  he  could  never  leave  this  place  any  more.  It  was 
not  the  social  life  at  Coppet,  nor  the  fascinating  conversation  of 
Madame  de  Stael  that  detained  him  here,  but  the  surpassing 
beauty  of  her  friend.  Her  charms  captivated  him  more  and 
more,  until  he  was  ready  to  sacrifice  everything  in  order  to 
possess  her.  But  all  he  was  willing  to  sacrifice,  was  insufficient 
for  the  attainment  of  his  object.  Madame  Recamier  was  too 
pious  to  consent  to  obtain  a  divorce  from  her  husband,  and 
too  virtuous  to  live  with  the  Prince  without  the  sanction  of 
the  church  and  the  courts. 

She  accepted  his  homage,  without  detracting  for  that  matter 
from  her  dignit}7  or  sweetness ;  she  saw  him  at  her  feet,  and 
raised  him  up  with  angelic  grace,  without  betraying  in  her  face 
the  painful  struggle  which  it  cost  her  to  do  so,  and  without 
showing  that  her  vanity  was  gratified  at  having  secured  the 
affections  of  so  august  a  suitor.  She  was  glad  to  see  that  he 
loved  her,  and  rewarded  him  with  a  certain  humble  gratitude 
for  thinking  her  so  amiable.  Madame  de  Stael  was  delighted 
with  the  homage  which  he  paid  to  Juliette,  and  was  more  than 
ever  attached  to  him  since  she  knew  that  he  admired  her  fair 
friend ;  for  her  great  and  noble  heart  was  free  from  petty  jeal- 
ousies, and  neither  malice  nor  hatred  ever  gained  access  to  it. 

Prince  Augustus  passed  three  months  at  Coppet,  and  during 
his  sojourn  there  he  was  indefatigable  in  his  efforts  to  persuade 
Madame  de  Recamier  to  leave  her  husband  and  become  his 
wife ;  but  his  impassioned  appeals  were  wasted.  Madame  de 
Genlis  made  this  episode  the  subject  of  a  novel,  entitled  Mad- 
emmsdle  de  Clermont,  and  the  scene  of  which  was  laid  at  Cop- 
pet,  at  the  house  of  a  rival  whom  her  envy  pursued  to  the 
last  days  of  her  life. 

Madame  Recamier  left  Coppet  at  last ;  and  no  sooner  had 


PRINCE    AUGUSTUS    AT   COPPET.  435 

she  departed,  than  the  Prince  likewise  bade  farewell  to  Madame 
de  Stael,  in  order  to  forget  his  love  in  the  noise  and  bustle  of 
the  world. 

Madame  de  Stael  now  went  to  Vienna  to  complete  her  prep- 
arations for  her  work  on  Germany.  She  remained  there  during 
the  winter.  Benjamin  Constant  went  with  her  eldest  son, 
Augustus,  to  Paris,  where  he  read  his  translation  of  Wallenstein 
in  several  salons. 

Some  critics  hav,e  asserted  that  Madame  de  Stael's  knowledge 
of  German  literature  was  very  superficial ;  but  such  was  not 
the  case.  It  is  true,  Schlegel's  advice  was  very  useful  to  her 
in  this  respect,  and  she  concurred  in  many  of  his  views  ;  but 
her  opinions,  in  the  main,  were  perfectly  independent,  and 
based  on  her  own  studies.  She  read  a  volume  every  morning, 
and  was  then  perfectly  familiar  with  its  contents,  as  was  shown 
by  her  conversations  on  it,  which,  it  is  true,  often  modified  her 
opinions  on  the  subject. 

These  grave  occupations  and  a  pleasant  social  life  produced 
a  salutary  effect  upon  her,  and  restored  the  tranquillity  of  her 
mind.  She  had  passed  the  winter  without  serious  heart-strug- 
gles ;  she  had  been  received  in  the  most  courteous  and  flattering 
manner ;  she  had  formed  a  great  many  new  and  agreeable  ac- 
quaintances, and  returned  in  the  best  of  spirits  to  Coppet, 
•where  she  was  soon  visited  by  her  Parisian  friends. 

With  Madame  Recamier  she  had  meanwhile  kept  up  an  ani- 
mated correspondence,  which,  on  her  part,  was  so  full  of  gen- 
erous and  noble  sentiments,  that  it  is  a  nobler  monument  of 
her  mind  and  heart  than  the  rest  of  her  works.  Now  the  two 
friends  were  united  again,  and  enjoyed  together  the  fine  sum- 
mer days,  during  which  they  often  called  to  mind  Prince 
Augustus  and  his  love. 

In  autumn,  friends  joined  them,  and  passed  the  monotonous 


436  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

•winter  months  with  them.  Among  them  was  Baron  Voigt, 
from  Altona,  who  read  a  number  of  German  works,  among 
them  Lessing's  NatTian,  to  her.  Ochlenschlager,  too,  arrived  at 
Coppet,  and  Madame  de  Stael  had  at  once  a  room  fitted  up 
for  him  at  the  chateau. 

She  received  him  in  the  most  cordial  manner,  and  invited 
him  to  spend  several  weeks  with  her.  She  remarked  jocosely 
that  he  spoke  French  far  better  than  he  did  at  the  first  visit 
which  he  paid  her  at  Auberge  en  Ville,  and  she  repeated  to 
him  a  few  remarks  which  he  had  addressed  to  her  at  that  time, 
and  which  seemed  to  him  now  so  ludicrous  that  he  could  not 
help  in  joining  her  laughter  at  his  expense. 

Ochlenschlager,  however,  was  not  long  in  discovering  that  he 
might  use  in  his  conversations  with  her  the  German  language, 
which  she  understood  perfectly,  but  did  not  like  to  speak.  Her 
son  Augustus  spoke  German  very  fluently,  and  so  did  her 
daughter  Albertine,  who  was  now  a  half-grown  girl. 

The  young  Dane  soon  felt  perfectly  at  home  at  Coppet.  The 
society  there  could  not  be  better,  and  the  comfortable  elegance 
of  the  life  at  the  chfiteau  pleased  him  exceedingly.  Sismoncle 
de  Sismondi,  the  celebrated  historian,  and  Count  de  Sabrin, 
joined  them  soon  after ;  so  that  the  domestic  circle  became  the 
more  interesting  and  lively,  the  more  the  season  compelled 
them  to  remain  in  the  house.  Ochlenschlager  generally  was 
quite  taciturn.  "  C'est  un  arbre,  #ur  lequel  il  croit  des  tragedies" 
said  Sismondi,  one  day,  about  him  to  Madame  de  Stael — a 
remark  with  which  the  young  poet  was  much  pleased.  Schle- 
gel  treated  him  coldly,  perhaps,  because  he  deemed  his  talents 
as  yet  hardly  worth  noticing.  He  rode  out  every  day  for  an 
hour  on  a  tame  horse,  in  order  to  take  exercise.  Once  the 
groom  wanted  to  give  him  a  fiery  horse,  but  he  refused  to  take 
it.  Madame  de  Stael  bantered  him.  Benjamin  Constant  then 


PBINCE   AUGUSTUS   AT  COPPET.  437 

offered  to  mount  the  horse,  in  order  to  convince  Schlegel  that  it 
was  not  dangerous.  It  was  a  humiliation  which  he  gladly 
inflicted  on  the  German  professor. 

The  whole  company  went  down  to  the  gateway  to  witness 
tho  occurrence,  in  which  all  took  sides  one  way  or  fhe  other 

stant  mounted  the  horse  and  galloped  away.    All  eyes 
(  ft  lowed  him  ;  but  scarcely  had  he  performed  a  short  distance 
ua  he  was  thrown  into  a  wet  ditch.    The  horse  ran  away 
and  returned  to  the  stable. 

Constant  rejoined  his  friends  in  great  confusion,  and  Schlegel 
-ecewed  hun  with  profound  compassion,  which  sounded  to  hL 
Hke  tatter  >rony.  He  went  to  his  room  in  the  worst  possible 
humor;  the  others  followed  him  amidst  laughter  and  jests. 

oung  Ochlenschlager  was  delighted  with  the  genius   wit 

and  amiability  of  his  hostess.    He  had  never  seen  a  woman 

er;  and,  with  the  susceptibility  of  his  age,  admired  her 

^  gifts.    She  enjoyed  his  admiration,  as  we  like  a  fragrant 

;  for  ardent  admiration  of  human  genius  is  the  finest 

blossom  of  a  pure  mind. 

The  grave,  taciturn  Northerner  listened  attentively  whenever 
she  spoke,  and  was  always  filled  with  fresh  surprise  at  the 
Piquant  and  profound  character  of  her  remarks,  which  made 
o  agreeable  a  companion.    Wherever  she  made  her  ap- 
pearance, youth  and  beauty  had  to  retire  from  the  field  -  so  re- 
»ly  did  her  attractive  conversation  captivate  all  men 
e  was  rich,  she  was  hospitable,  and,  in  his  opinion   sat 
enthroned  like  a  queen  or  a  sort  of  fairy  in  her  Lh  ned 
palace,  whither  eminent  men  flocked  in  order  to  be  dominated 
>er.    Her  scepter  was  the  small  twig  which  the  footman 
•d  every  day  beside  her  napkin,  because  it  was  no  less  neces- 
ary  to  her  for  keeping  her  hands  in  motion,  than  knife  and 
k  were  indispensable  to  her  for  taking  food. 


438  MADAME    DE    STAET,. 

Zacharias  Werner,  too,  arrived  quite  unexpectedly  one  day, 
late  in  autumn,  with  a  large  snuff-box  in  bis  narrow  vest  pocket, 
and  with  a  great  deal  of  snuff  in  his  nostrils,  and  with  many 
bows.  Ochlenschiager  was  glad  that  Werner  epoke  French 
as  imperfectly  as  he  did,  and  laughed  at  his  blunders.  At  the 
same  time  he  admired  Werner's  writings,  although  not  so  ar- 
dently as  Madame  de  Stael  did,  and  so  both  of  them  became 
•warm  friends,  and  made  daily  excursions  in  the  environs  of 
Coppet. 

One  day  Madame  de  Stael  entered  the  room  when  they  were 
engaged  in  an  animated  conversation.  She  asked  them  what 
they  were  speaking  of.  "  I  am  scolding  Werner,"  said  Ochlen- 
Bchlager.  "  I  communicated  the  plan  of  my  tragedy  to  him, 
and  he  now  wants  to  conceal  the  plan  of  his  tragedy  from  me. 
Is  not  that  too  bad  ?  Is  it  not  unfair  ?  " 

"  Ah,"  she  replied,  gravely  and  reprovingly,  "  dest  une  autre 
cJiose,  wus  etes  encore  jeune  ;  wus  aeez  besoin  de  wus  former." 

Without  replying  to  her,  Ochlenschiager  quickly  turned  his 
back  to  her  and  left  the  room.  She  vainly  waited  for  his  re- 
turn. When  she  finally  sent  a  servant  to  his  room,  she  was  in- 
formed that  he  was  packing  his  trunk  in  order  to  leave  Coppet. 
Her  words  had  offended  him. 

She  now  went  herself  to  him,  and  tried  to  pacify  him  by  pro- 
testations of  her  esteem  and  friendship.  His  vanity  was 
wounded.  She  had  not  yet  read  any  of  his  writings,  and  he 
allowed  himself  at  last  to  be  persuaded  to  remain  till  the  arri- 
val of  his  Aladdin  and  Hakon  Jarl,  so  that  she  might  acquire 
a  better  appreciation  and  knowledge  of  his  poetical  talents. 
He  had  sent  for  the  two  books,  and,  when  the  packages  ar- 
rived a  few  days  afterward,  the  warm  encomiums  which  she 
bestowed  upon  him,  conciliated  him  entirely,  and  he  no  longer 
thought  of  his  departure. 


PRINCE   AUGUSTUS   AT   COPPET.  439 

He  intended  to  pass  the  winter  in  Italy.  Madame  de  Stael 
represented  to  him  that  it  would  be  better  for  him  to  stay  with 
her  and  learn  Italian,  and  then  to  cross  the  Alps  imthe  spring, 
•when  he  would  be  familiar  with  the  language.  We  easily  allow 
ourselves  to  be  persuaded  to  do  that  which  we  like  to  do.  So 
he  gladly  remained  with  her,  and  accompanied  her  and  all  her 
guests  to  Geneva,  where  he  took  dancing  lessons  in  order  to 
waltz  with  the  fair  ladies  of  that  city. 

A  constant  whirl  of  dinner  and  supper-parties,  theatrical 
performances  and  concerts,  entertained  them  here.  Madame 
de  Stael  recited  poetry  and  lectured ;  and  the  pedantic  women 
of  the  republic  gazed  again  in  surprise  at  the  brilliant  comet 
whose  orbit  they  were  unable  to  follow,  and  whose  passage, 
therefore,  caused  them  to  shake  their  heads. 

Benjamin  Constant  had  now  at  length  completed  his  transla- 
tion of  Wallenxtein.  He  had  imitated  Racine's  style  and  pecu- 
liarities in  arranging  this  tragedy,  and  was  now  anxious  to  learn 
the  reception  with  which  his  production  would  meet;  for  he 
was  tired  of  being  eclipsed  by  Schlegel's  literary  celebrity; 
and,  destitute  as  he  was  of  productive  talents,  he  had  to  content 
nimself  with  translating  one  of  Schiller's  plays.  He  therefore 
appointed  an  evening  on  which  he  intended  to  read  his  transla- 
tion to  his  friends  at  Geneva. 

The  encomiums  which  were  bestowed  on  him  seemed  to  him 
by  far  too  cold.  He  forgot  that  what  he  had  written  was  a 
mere  translation,  and  that  the  genius  of  the  author  had  en- 
grossed the  thoughts  of  his  audience  as  he  read  the  book.  So 
the  applause  with  which  the  translation  was  received  did  not 
content  him,  and  he  gazed  with  sullenness  and  dissatisfaction 
upon  the  audience. 

It  is  very  disagreeable  for  a  talented  man  to  play  a  secondary 
role  by  the  side  of  a  celebrated  lady.  At  the  outset  of  his 


440  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

career,  Constant  had  created  too  great  a  sensation;  he  had 
then  been  admired  too  much  as  an  orator,  to  be  satisfied 
with  a  slight  measure  of  incense  bestowed  upon  him  in  the 
field  of  literature,  where  he  was  not  in  his  proper  element. 
The  longer  his  friends  now  talked  about  the  drama,  the  more 
distinctly  did  he  perceive  that  he  was  not  the  author,  but 
only  the  translator ;  and  this  added  greatly  to  his  disappoint- 
ment. 

For  a  long  time  past  he  had  been  dissatisfied  with  his 
position,  and  scarcely  been  able  to  conceal  his  mortification. 
But  the  reading  of  his  translation  of  Wallenstein  caused  him  to 
come  to  a  sudden  determination. 

Madame  de  Stael  had  no  idea  of  what  was  passing  in  his 
breast.  She  was  engaged  in  rehearsing  a  musical  performance 
which  she  had  arranged,  and  did  not  notice  his  absence  imme- 
diately. The  superb  music  which  Shulz  had  composed  to 
the  lyrical  parts*  of  Racine's  Athalie,  was  to  enchant  Ochlen- 
schlager's  ears  before  he  left  them  ;  for  he  saTd  that  nothing 
moved  him  more  profoundly  than  these  heart-melodies  of  the 
North,  as  he  called  them.  She  did  not  notice,  therefore,  thai 
Constant  was  absent ;  and  when  he  did  not  make  his  appear 
ance  in  the  evening  either,  she  thought  it  was  owing  to  a  whim, 
such  as  often  made  him  sullen  and  morose. 

Occupied  as  she  was  with  Ochlenschlager  alone,  she  did  not 
even  think  of  sending  for  him.  When  all  the  guests  had  left 
the  house,  the  Northern  poet  asked  her  to  write  a  few  lines  in 
his  Album.  She  wrote  as  follows  : 

"J'introduis  pour  la  premiere  fois  le  Franfais  dans  ce  Uvre; 
mais  bien  que  Gotlie  Vait  appele  une  langue  perficte,  fespere,  mon 
cher  OehlenscMdger,  que  vous  croirez  d  mon  amitie  pour  vo-us  et  d 
ma  mve  estime  pour  Pauteur  ff  Axel  et  Vallborg." 

They  then  parted  in  the  most  cordial  manner,  and  did  not 


PRINCE   AUGUSTUS   AT   COPPET.  441 

see  each  other  for  many  years  afterward,  until  an  accident 
caused  them  to  meet  again  for  a  short  time. 

When  Benjamin  Constant  did  not  make  his  appearance  on 
the  following  day  either,  Madame  de  Stael  sent  a  servant  up  to 
him  to  inquire  why  he  kept  his  room  all  the  time ;  and  now 
she  was  informed  that  he  could  not  be  found  anywhere,  and 
that  he  had  not  touched  his  hed  at  all  last  night. 

This  news  surprised  her  greatly.  She  revolved  in  her  mind 
all  that  had  happened  and  had  been  spoken  of  for  the  last  few 
days,  but  she  was  unable  to  find  anywhere  a  key  to  his  sudden 
disappearance,  and  to  divine  whither  he  might  have  gone. 

Messengers  were  sent  out  after  him  in  all  directions,  but  they 
did  not  find  him.  She  wrote  to  Madame  Recamier  and  to  M. 
de  Montmorency  in  order  to  ask  them  if  he  had  gone  to  them ; 
she  made  inquiries  in  Paris,  but  no  one  was  able  to  give  her 
any  information  about  him. 

In  the  meantime  she  returned  to  Coppet,  and  hoped  that  he 
would  surprise  her  here  one  clay ;  but  she  waited  in  vain  for  his 
re- appearance.  She  was  deeply  afflicted  at  his  prolonged  ab- 
sence. What  could  have  induced  him  to  leave  her  in  this 
manner — her  who  had  sacrificed  everything  to  him !  She 
was  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  his  conduct. 

Literary  employment  was  again  her  only  consolation  for  the 
disappearance  of  her  old  friend.  It  was  only  in  devoting  her- 
self to  this  occupation  with  more  zeal  and  energy  than  ever 
before,  that  she  found  forgetfulness  and  tranquillity.  But  her 
nights,  during  which  her  agitation  made  her  sleepless,  and 
when  no  occupation  diverted  her  thoughts  from  the  subject 
which  she  was  anxious  to  forget,  were  exceedingly  painful  to 
her.  So  she  had  to  resort  again  and  again  to  the  remedy 
which  gave  her  a  few  hours  of  artificial  repose,  and  slowly 
take  the  poison  that  was  to  hurry  her  to  a  premature  grave. 


442  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

Spring  had  meanwhile  drawn  to  a  close,  and  already  she 
commenced  mourning  for  Constant  as  if  he  had  died.  One 
day,  however,  an  acquaintance  told  her  that  he  had  met,  and 
conversed  with,  M.  Benjamin  Constant  de  Rebecque,  who  had 
been  accompanied  by  a  lady,  on  the  road  between  Lucerne  and 
Interlachen. 

Madame  de  Stael  was  utterly  unprepared  for  this  intelli- 
gence. She  felt  as  if  something  was  torn  in  her  breast,  and  fell 
senseless  to  the  ground. 

When  she  awoke  to  consciousness,  the  outbursts  of  her  grief 
were  so  terrible,  that  her  friends  began  to  tremble  for  her  life. 
He  lived  while  she  mourned  for  him ;  he  lived  and  deceived 
her !  That  was  more  than  she  was  able  to  bear.  This  thought 
broke  her  heart 

She  ordered  her  carriage,  begged  Schlegel  to  take  care  of  her 
children,  and  set  out  without  informing  her  friends  whither  she 
was  going,  or  when  she  would  return.  The  fact  was  that  she 
did  not  know  it  herself;  she  had  not  yet  fully  made  up  her 
mind  whither  to  wend  her  way.  She  wanted  to  go  in  search 
of  him,  no  matter  where  he  might  be ;  and  she  Avas  at  a  loss  to 
know  whither  he  had  gone. 

She  took  the  route  which  the  above-mentioned  acquaintance 
had  indicated  to  her,  but  she  did  not  find  a  trace  of  him.  At 
length,  several  days  afterward,  she  reached  Interlachen  at 
setting-in  of  dusk.  The  snow-clad  summit  of  the  Jungfrau 
was  already  shrouded  in  clouds ;  in  the  western  horizon  some 
purple  streaks  were  still  to  be  seen;  the  air  was  cool,  although 
it  was  in  midsummer ;  and  the  place  was  as  deserted  as  if  no 
strangers  ever  wended  their  way  to  it. 

Madame  de  Stael  wrapped  herself  in  a  warm  shawl,  and 
walked  alone  through  the  streets.  She  was  not  sure  that  she 
would  find  her  faithless  friend  here,  but  something  in  her  heart 


PRINCE   AUGUSTUS  AT  COPPET.  443 

made  her  restless ;  her  eyes  wandered  about  as  if  in  search  of 
somebody,  and  as  if  she  would  recognize  him  in  every 
passer-by,  and  see  him  step  forth  from  behind  every  tree. 

There  was  a  light  in  a  low-roofed  villa  which  illuminated  the 
street  through  the  open  windows.  Thither  she  wended  her 
way ;  she  did  not  know  why ;  whether  it  was  a  foreboding,  or 
fate.  In  short,  an  irresistible  power  drew  her  thither. 

A  gentleman  and  a  lady  sat  opposite  to  each  other  at  a  table 
in  the  room.  They  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  an  animated  con- 
versation. Suddenly  the  lady  rose,  approached  him,  leaned  on 
his  shoulder,  and  imprinted  a  tender  kiss  on  his  forehead. 

A  shrill,  piercing  cry  under  the  window  startled  her  sud- 
denly, so  that  she  gave  a  violent  start.  The  gentleman  had 
turned  deadly  pale  at  the  sound  of  this  voice,  and  glanced 
about  in  terror  and  confusion.  He  then  took  a  sudden  resolu- 
tion, and  hastened  out  of  the  room. 

He  found  Madame  de  Stael  lying  in  a  swoon  under  his 
window. 

Several  persons  who  had  heard  the  cry,  rushed  from  the 
house.  The  strange  lady  was  lifted  up ;  and  as  Madame  de  Stael 
used  to  recover  immediately  from  such  powerful  emotions,  so 
she  was  now  again  in  a  few  minutes  erect  and  restored  to 
consciousness. 

She  gazed  long  and  mournfully  at  Constant.  "  So  you  were 
here,  Benjamin, "  she  said  in  her  deep,  sonorous  voice.  "  Here, 
then,  I  was  to  go  in  search  of  you,  and  find  you  in  such  com- 
pany ?  Alas !  I  had  a  foreboding  that  you  would  desert  me  so 
perfidiously  one  clay !  " 

"  Let  me  escort  you  to  your  rooms,  Germaine, "  he  replied,  in 
an  undertone,  deeply  moved  by  her  words.  "  There  I  will 
explain  everything  to  you.  Pray  follow  me." 

He  offered  her  his  arm,  and,  leaning  on  it,  she  walked  slowly 


444  MADAME   DE   STAEI/. 

to  her  hotel.  Not  a  word  passed  between  them  on  the  way 
thither.  Both  made  an  effort  to  compose  themselves,  and  call 
to  mind  that  with  which  they  might  upbraid  one  another. 
Constant  tried  to  find  new  subterfuges  with  which  to  justify 
Ms  conduct,  but  it  was  not  easy  for  him  to  do  so  this  time. 

They  parted  company  hi  a  very  unpleasant  state  of  mind,  at 
an  advanced  hour  of  the  night. 

He  felt  that  he  could  not  convince  or  rather  deceive  Madame 
de  Stael.  She  refused  to  believe  that  Count  Hardenberg  had 
requested  him  to  accompany  his  niece  on  a  trip  to  this  water- 
ing-place, and  that  he  had  concealed  it  from  her,  inasmuch  as 
lie  had  felt  convinced  that  her  jealousy  would  prevent  her  from 
permitting  him  to  comply  with  the  Count's  request. 

But  the  lady  whom  Constant  had  left  at  the  villa  had  like- 
wise been  greatly  surprised  and  alarmed  at  this  nocturnal  ad- 
venture. Upon  his  return  to  her,  he  called  upon  her  to  confirm 
his  statements,  to  avoid  Madame  de  Stael  as  long  as  she  was 
at  Interlachen,  and,  even  if  he  should  accompany  her  at  her 
departure,  quietly  submit  to  this  step,  and  patiently  await  his 
return. 

She  passed  a  sleepless  night. 

In  the  morning  she  was  dressed  long  before  Constant  was 
about,  and  on  her  way  to  Madame  de  Stael,  without  informing 
him  of  her  intention.  She  caused  herself  to  be  announced  to 
her  as  Madame  de  Rebecque,  and  was  admitted ;  for  Madame 
de  Stael  was  no  less  anxious  to  see  the  strange  lady,  than  the 
latter  was  to  have  an  interview  with  her. 

The  fair  daughter  of  Germany  stood  before  her,  pale  and 
grave.  In  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  she  begged  her  to 
tell  her  why  Constant  was  afraid  of  informing  her  of  the  rights 
which  she  had  in  regard  to  him. 

"  Rights ! "  cried  Madame  de  Stael,  turning  red  and  pale. 


PRINCE   AUGUSTUS   AT  COPPET.  445 

" Rights  1    Mon  Dieu—"    She  stopped  short.    She  felt  only 
too  painfully  that  she  had  no  rights  to  him. 

"  He  wants  me  to  conceal  from  you  that  I  am  his  wife,"  added 
the  other. 

"His  wife!"  exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael.  "  Impossible  I 
What  should  I  be,  then  I "  She  trembled. 

"Here  is  the  proof,"  said  the  stranger,  showing  her  the  wed- 
ding ring.  "  We  were  married  on  the  5th  of  June." 

"  That  is  dreadful  I "  exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael.  "  Dread- 
ful !  How  do  you  come  to  belong  to  him,  when  he  has  been 
mine  for  many  years  past,  and  is  to  remain  mine  ?  " 

"  You  will  not  leave  him  to  me  ?  " 

"  Never  I  What  claims  do  you  have  to  him  ?  His  love  ?  It 
has  belonged  to  me  for  many  years  1  The  benediction  of  the 
Church  ?  But  I— I— oh,  dreadful  treachery  1  How  could  you 
take  him  from  me  ?  " 

"  All  is  clear  to  me  now,  suddenly — all,  all ! "  said  the  other. 
"  His  irresolution,  his  seeming  fickleness — all,  all.  I  knew 
him  long  before  his  eyes  ever  fell  on  you,  and  he  was  engaged 
to  marry  me  long  before  you  ever  heard  his  voice.  Year  after 
year  went  by,  and  still  he  deferred  the  moment  when  he  was  to 
belong  to  me.  And  now  he  comes  at  last,  redeems  his  word,  and 
— is  about  to  leave  me  again !  I  shall  not  submit  to  this  dis- 
grace. I  shall  rather  end  my  life  here  at  your  feet ;  with  this 
intention  I  came  to  you ;  he  must  either  be  mine,  or  I  cease 
standing  in  your  way." 

So  saying,  she  quickly  seized  a  glass  standing  near  her,  threw 
something  into  it,  and  swallowed  the  contents  before  Madame 
de  Stael  was  able  to  prevent  her  from  so  doing. 

"  For  God's  sake,  what  have  you  done  ?  "  cried  the  latter  in 
dismay,  and  hastened  to  her  in  order  to  snatch  the  glass  from 
her  hand ;  but  it  was  already  too  late. 


446  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

"  You  have  got  rid  of  your  rival,"  cried  the  poor  lady,  with 
much  resignation,  and  sank  into  a  chair,  where  she  looked  for 
her  speedy  dissolution. 

At  this  moment  Constant  rushed  breathlessly  into  the  room. 
"  What  has  happened  here  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  wildly,  glancing 
now  at  one,  now  at  the  other. 

"  Send  for  a  doctor  1 "  cried  Madame  de  Stael,  perfectly  be- 
side herself.  "  She  has  taken  poison !  She  is  dying  1  For 
God's  sake,  quick ! " 

Upon  hearing  these  words,  Constant  rushed  away  like  a 
madman.  A  physician  arrived  in  a  few  minutes,  and  for- 
tunately succeeded  in  saving  her.  The  unfortunate  lady  was  re- 
stored to  a  life  in  which  she  was  to  enjoy  but  little  happiness. 
The  inconstancy  of  her  husband  was  an  incessant  source  of 
trouble  to  her. 

Reassured  and  cooled  down  after  this  terrible  catastrophe, 
all  three  of  them  were  in  a  conciliatory  mood,  and  Madame  dc 
Stael,  kind  and  generous  as  usual  when  her  heart  spoke  and 
her  passion  was  silent,  deeply  pitied  the  poor  lady,  and  assured 
her  of  her  own  accord  that  she  would  not  encroach  upon  her 
rights,  and  that  Constant  should  belong  to  her  alone.  Having 
comforted  her  in  this  manner,  and  bidden  Constant  a  concilia- 
tory farewell,  she  returned  alone  to  Coppet. 

She  arrived  there  in  a  sad  state  of  mind,  kissed  her  children, 
and  locked  herself  in  her  room. 

This  journey  to  Interlachen  was  an  epoch  in  her  life.  A 
mere  fickleness  she  would  have  gladly  forgiven,  for  she  knew 
the  human  heart,  and  was  aware  that  even  the  strongest  will  is 
not  always  able  to  regulate  its  pulsations.  This  was  the  reason 
why  she  did  not  count  upon  any  attachment  which  was  not 
strengthened  by  the  voice  of  duty. 

But  treachery — treachery  toward  her  most  sacred  feelings— 


PRINCE  AUGUSTUS  AT  COPPET. 

treachery  where  she  looked  for  fidelity-treachery  where  she 
had  a  right  to  expect  sincere  and  durable  friendship-that  was 
too  bitter  a  disappointment.  She  was  not  equal  to  this  trial. 
It  violently  shook  her  faith  in  human  nature. 

And  yet,  despite  his  unworthy  conduct,  she  could  neither 
hate  nor  despise  the  man  who  had  sinned  against  her  in  this 

manner. 

She  knew  his  character;  she  knew  that  he  suffered  mosi 
consequence  of  his  treachery;   she  pitied  him  sincerely,  and 
lamented  his  weakness. 

With  deceit  in  his  heart,  he  had  met  her  so  many  years  witl 
an  open  forehead,  and  she  had  trusted  him!  She  herself  was 
so  candid,  how  could  she  suspect  that  he  was  false  ? 

She  did  not  want  to  see  him  any  more.  "God!  God! 
Grant  me  forgetfulness  ! "  she  prayed,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  her 

poignant  grief. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  low  knocking  at  her  door.  She  did 
not  hear  it.  It  was  repeated  again  and  again.  It  was  at  an 
unseasonable  hour  of  the  night.  It  was  past  midnight.  At 
last  she  opened  the  door  with  her  own  hand. 

Benjamin  Constant,  deadly  pale  and  perfectly  beside  him  elf, 

stood  before  her. 
"Is  it  you,  Benjamin?"  exclaimed  Madame  de  I 

dismay. 

He  sank  at  her  feet. 

"  Forgive  me,  or  I  shall  die  here.  Be  my  friend  again,  or  I 
have  lived  enough,"  he  cried,  passionately. 

"For  God's  sake,  do  not  trouble  me  any  more,"  exclaimed 
Madame  de  Stael,  angrily.  "  I  have  suffered  enough  through 
you.  Your  sight  re-awakens  my  whole  grief.  Stay  now  with 
her  to  whom  duty  attaches  yflu." 

"  I  shall  not  do  so  unless  you  forgive  me,  Germaine.    I  shall 


448  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

not  do  so  without  having  heard  from  you  a  word  comforting 
me,  and  causing  me  to  appear  less  hateful  to  myself.  I  shall 
not  do  so  without  receiving  from  you  a  glance  restoring  my 
courage  and  tranquillity  to  me.  I  shall  remain  on  my  knees 
before  you,  Germaine,  until  your  hand  lifts  me  up ;  and  I  shall 
die  here,  if  you  turn  from  me  inexorably  1 " 
.  "  I  do  not  hate  you,  Constant,"  said  Madame  de  Stael,  weep- 
ing gently.  "  I  do  not  shut  my  door  against  you.  I  only  want 
to  forget  how  deeply  you  have  offended  me ;  and  then — then — 
I  shall  hold  out  my  hand  to  you,  and  be  reconciled  to  you." 

She  burst  into  loud  sobs,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 
Constant  crept  close  up  to  her,  pressed  the  hem  of  her  dre.ss  to 
his  lips,  and  called  her  by  a  thousand  fond  names,  shedding 
tears  all  the  time. 

"  Go  now ! "  she  said,  imploringly.  "  I  can  say  no  more.  I 
forgive  you,"  she  added  in  a  low  voice. 

"  God  be  praised ! "  he  cried,  as  if  animated  with  fresh  hope, 
kissed  her  feet,  and  rushed  out  of  the  room.  She  gazed  after 
him.  Had  it  been  an  apparition,  or  had  she  really  seen  him  ? 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE  SICK  HERO. 

A  Totnsro  man,  descended  from  a  noble  family,  had  excited 
the  liveliest  interest  among  the  ladies  of  Geneva,  by  the  fame 
of  his  heroic  deeds,  the  contrast  of  his  age  with  his  tottering 
step,  the  pale  complexion  of  his  prepossesStog  face,  and  his 
feeble  health. 

Wounds  which  he  had  received  in  the  Spanish  war  threat- 
ened him  with  a  premature  death.  They  had  confined  him  to 
his  bed  for  a  long  time,  and  he  had  not  risen  from  it  until  quite 
recently,  with  a  faint  hope  of  ultimate  recovery. 

Madame  de  Stael  listened  sympathetically  to  the  account  of 
his  fate  and  of  his  present  sufferings.  She  asked  herself  if  he 
would  exchange  his  physical  pain  for  the  trials  imposed  upon 
her  heart,  and  a  low  voice  hi  her  breast  whispered  to  her  that, 
compared  to  her,  he  was  still  the  happier  of  the  two.  Admi- 
ration, praise,  and  sympathies  were  bestowed  upon  young 
Rocca ;  but  no  one  suspected  her  sufferings ;  only  the  silent 
midnight  hour  was  the  confident  of  her  complaints. 

To  a  woman  it  is  humiliating  to  be  betrayed  and  deserted ; 
and  the  compassion  to  which  she  is  entitled,  wounds  her 
heart. 

She  could  forgive  Constant's  offense,  but  not  forget  it;  her 
heart  continued  bleeding. 

One  day,  when  she  was  walking  out  alone,  she  saw  the  sick 
young  man  who  attracted  so  much  attention,  pacing  up  and 


450  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

down  in  the  sun.  She  stood  still  and  looked  thoughtfully 
after  him. 

"  He  is  very  young  yet,"  she  murmured  to  herself,  her  eyes 
filling  with  teai-s,  "and  is  already  to  renounce  the  joys  of 
life." 

When  he  turned  now,  and  was  about  to  pass  her  again,  she 
laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  looked  at  him  compassionately  with 
her  fine  dark  eyes,  and  said  gently,  in  her  deep,  sonorous 
voice: 

"  Hope,  hope  on,  poor  sufferer ;  God  is  great.  Your  youth 
may  surmount  a  great  deal ;  your  wounds  will  heal,  and  will 
then  be  proud  ojpaments.  But  when  the  heart  is  wounded  in 
its  inmost  depth,  time  brings  no  relief,  and  all  is  irretrievably 
lost  Console  yourself  with  the  thought  that  there  are  still 
greater  sufferings  than  those  which  weigh  you  down." 

So  saying,  she  turned  from  him  and  went  on  her  way  ;  but 
the  young  patient  remained  standing,  as  if  riveted  to  the  spot, 
and  gazed  after  her  until  she  had  disappeared  from  his  view. 

"  It  was  her,"  said  a  voice  in  his  breast ;  "  it  could  be  no  one 
but  her ;  she  alone  is  able  to  utter  such  words,  and  cast  such 
glances  on  me." 

Her  words  still  vibrated  on  his  ear.  Waking,  dreaming,  he 
heard  and  saw  her  alone.  She  engrossed  all  his  thoughts.  All 
he  wished  for,  was  to  meet  her  again ;  all  he  hoped  for,  was  to 
hear  her  voice  once  more,  and  to  bask  again  in  the  sunshine  of 
her  eyes,  which  had  rested  on  him  so  sorrowfully  and  sympa- 
thetically. 

"  But,"  he  was  asked,  "  what  could  you,  a  poor  invalid,  be  to 
her?  Of  what  could  you  talk  with  her?  She  takes  no  inter- 
est in  anything  but  politics  and  literature;  what  could  you 
offer  to  this  highly  intellectual  and  cultivated  lady  ?  " 

"A  heart  beating  warmly  for  her." 


THE   SICK   HERO.  451 

"  Who  tells  you  that  she  cares  for  that  heart  ?  " 

"  She  is  unhappy,  and  has  need  of  the  consolation  of  love. 
Je  Vaimerai  tettemeni  qu'ettejinirapar  m'Spouser,"  replied  Rocca, 
half  angry  at  the  obstacles  thrown  in  his  way. 

His  friends  laughed  at  his  presumption,  and  informed  Mad- 
ame de  Stael  of  what  the  young  invalid  had  said  in  regard  to 
her. 

She  listened  to  them  mournfully.  If  it  should  comfort  his 
oppressed  soul,  why  should  this  consolation  not  be  granted  to 
him  ?  She  herself  was  so  unhappy,  so  weary  of  suffering — 
her  life  was  so  lonely,  so  monotonous,  and  she  felt  how  a  per- 
son in  such  moments  of  loneliness  might  grasp  at  a  straw. 

"  We  have  something  in  common — both  of  us  are  sufferers," 
she  replied,  and  sent  word  to  him  that  she  would  be  glad  to  see 
him. 

The  young  officer  made  his  appearance,  trembling  with  hap- 
piness. Fresh  life  coursed  through  his  veins  since  he  saw  her ; 
his  pulse  beat  more  impetuously,  and  he  felt  that  he  must 
recover. 

Madame  de  Stael  perceived  this  impression  with  heartfelt 
joy.  "Happiness  is  such  a  rare  flower,"  she  said;  "may  it 
bloom  to  him  through  me ! " 

She  now  continued  her  work  on  Germany  with  fresh  courage. 
Since  a  new  flame  warmed  her  heart,  she  was  able  to  work 
again,  and  she  looked  forward  to  the  completion  of  her  book 
toward  the  close  of  the  winter. 

In  order  to  superintend  the  publication  of  the  work,  she 
wished  again  to  move  closer  to  Paris,  and  pass  beyond  the 
bounds  of  the  forty  leagues  which  had  been  set  to  her.  A 
dangerous  step ! 

So  she  repaired  to  France  in  the  spring  of  1810,  and  took  up 
her  abode  in  the  ancient  chateau  of  Chauinont-sur-Lojre,  which 


452  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

Cardinal  d'Amboise,  Diana  cle  Poitiers,  Catherine  cle  Medici, 
and  Nostradamus  had  inhabited  before  her.  The  present 
owner  of  this  romantic  building  was  in  America,  and  upon 
his  return  she  removed  to  the  neighboring  estate  of  Fosse, 
which  offered  to  her  plenty  of  room,  but  very  little  comfort 
beside. 

Madame  Recarnier  visited  her  here,  and  cheered  her  solitude 
by  her  warm  friendship.  As  soon  as  Madame  de  Stael  set  foot 
on  French  soil,  her  state  of  mind  underwent  a  marked  change. 
The  very  air  seemed  to  produce  a  salutary  effect  on  her ;  or 
was  it  only  the  thought  that  she  was  again  hi  her  native 
country,  and  no  longer  in  exile,  which  cheered  her  so  visibly  ? 

The  environs  of  Fosse  were  monotonous,  and  it  was  so  far 
from  Paris  that  her  Parisian  friends  could  visit  her  but  very 
rarely.  So  she  was  confined  to  her  domestic  circle ;  she  and 
her  companions  amused  themselves  by  music  and  singing ; 
Madame  Recamier  played  on  the  harp,  an  Italian  music-teacher 
on  the  guitar,  and  Madame  de  Stael  and  her  daughter  sung, 
often  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  population  of  the  village. 

Every  now  and  then  she  made  secret  trips  to  Paris,  her 
negotiations  with  her  publisher  rendering  personal  interviews 
with  him  almost  indispensable. 

One  day,  at  the  very  moment  when  her  carriage  drove  up  to 
his  door,  she  was  suddenly  met  by  Benjamin  Constant.  Joy 
and  surprise  animated  his  glance,  while  he  tried  to  read  in  her 
face  what  reception  he  would  meet  with  at  her  hands. 

Madame  de  Stael  held  out  to  him  her  hand  with  her  amiable 
frankness.  "  I  hope  you  are  happy, "  she  said ;  "  that  is  mora 
important  than  anything  else." 

"Without  you?  Never!"  he  exclaimed,  passionately.  "As 
the  flower  has  need  of  the  sun,  so  I  have  need  of  the  light  of 
your  eyes,  and  of  the  flashes  of  your  genius,  to  enjoy  my  life, 


THE   SICK    HERO.  453 

and  arouse  my  soul  to  energetic  action.    I  can  no  longer  live 

•without  you." 

•    "  And  your  wife  ?  " 

"  She  is  here,  and  knows  that  I  am  in  search  of  you. " 

He  followed  her  into  the  house.  He  told  her  in  a  desperate 
tone  that  he  would  throw  himself  under  the  wheels  of  her 
carriage  if  she  refused  him  permission  to  accompany  her.  So 
she  yielded  at  last 

"  You  are  foolish,"  she  said ;  "  but  how  am  I  to  prevent  you 
from  following  me  ? — Comment  aefdcher  contre  dautres  que  ceux 
qiCon  aime  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  harsh  remark !  "  exclaimed  Benjamin  Constant, 
looking  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  But,  I  hope,  it  is  true;  at  all  events,  if  it  is  not,  it  deserves 
to  be  true, "  she  replied. 

After  attending  to  her  business,  she  wished  to  pay  a  visit  to 
Henrietta  Mendelssohn,  who  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Schle- 
gel;  and  in  whom  she,  therefore,  took  the  liveliest  interest. 
Henrietta  Mendelssohn  lived  in  a  villa  on  the  Richter,  where 
she  educated  a  number  of  little  girls  belonging  to  the  most 
aristocratic  families.  Accompanied  by  Constant,  she  now  re- 
paired to  this  quiet,  shady  villa,  to  pass  a  few  hours  with  the 
talented  and  interesting  teacher. 

This  secluded  life,  the  resignation  with  which  she  performed 
her  task,  her  gentleness  and  modesty,  made  a  singular  im- 
pression on  a  lady  whose  whole  nature  had  always  longed  for 
intercourse  with  the  outer  world,  and  who,  despite  all  her  long- 
ing for  happiness,  had  never  been  able  to  reach  it.  She  was 
not  very  talkative  to-day.  She  sat  absorbed  in  grave  and 
gloomy  thoughts  about  her  immediate  future. 

Constant  did  all  he  could  to  cheer  her  up.  But  his  conversa- 
tion etonnante  was  wasted  on  this  occasion. 


454  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

When  they  left  the  villa,  he  urged  her  to  tell  him  what  de- 
pressed her  so  much. 

"  How  can  you  ask  that  question,"  she  said,  reproachfully. 
"I  have  no  home  on  earth.  I  do  not  belong  anywhere;  and 
no  one  belongs  to  me.  No  one  shares  my  lot,  and  bears  pros- 
perity and  adversity  with  me.  I  am  dying  of  the  loneliness 
of  my  heart." 

She  intended  to  bid  him  farewell,  but  he  did  not  permit  it. 
Nothing,  he  said,  could  prevent  him  from  accompanying  her, 
returning  with  her  to  Fosse,  and  spending  there  some  time 
with  her.  She  accepted  this  offer  without  manifesting  any  joy, 
and,  in  so  doing,  yielded  only  to  his  pressing  supplication. 

On  the  23d  of  September  she  corrected  the  last  proof-sheet 
of  her  work  on  Germany.  .With  heartfelt  joy  she  added  to  it 
the  words,  " The  End;"  so  little  did  she  anticipate  the  new 
persecutions  which  it  was  to  occasion  to  her.  She  cheerfully 
drew  up  a  list  of  one  hundred  persons  to  whom  she  intended 
to  send  it,  forwarded  it  to  her  publisher,  and  then  went  to  the 
estate  of  M.  de  Montmorency,  situated  five  miles  from  Blois. 
Overjoyed  as  she  was  to  meet  this  dear  friend  of  hers  again, 
she  walked  with  him  in  the  shade  of  the  magnificent  forest 
surrounding  his  chateau,  enjoyed  the  splendid  weather,  lin- 
gered at  the  vestiges  of  historical  events,  in  which  the  place 
abounded,  owing  to  the  battle  of  Fretteval,  between  Philip  Au- 
gustus and  Richard  the  Lion-hearted,  and  yielded  to  the  gen- 
tle peace  and  tranquillity  with  which  the  scenery  filled  her 
heart. 

When  they  returned  to  the  chateau,  she  went  to  her  room 
aud  wrote  to  Bonaparte : 

"  Sire :  I  take  the  liberty  of  sending  my  work  on  Germany 
to  your  majesty.  If  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  read  it,  I  be- 
lieve you  will  find  that  it  is  the  production  of  a  thoughtful 


THE   SICK   HEKO.  455 

mind,  matured  by  time.  Sire,  twelve  years  have  elapsed  since 
I  have  seen  your  majesty,  and  am  in  exile.  Twelve  years  of 
adversity  chastens  every  character,  and  fate  teaches  resigna- 
tion to  those  who  suffer. 

"  On  the  eve  of  embarking  for  England,  I  beg  your  majesty 
to  grant  me  an  interview  of  half  an  hour.  I  believe  I  am  able 
to  communicate  to  you  matters  of  interest  to  you,  and  for  this 
reason  I  pray  you  to  grant  me  this  favor  previous  to  my  de- 
parture. 

"  In  this  letter  I  shall  confine  myself  to  one  point,  namely, 
a  statement  of  the  reasons  which  induce  me  to  leave  the  con- 
tinent in  case  your  majesty  should  not  permit  me  to  live  at  a 
villa  so  close  to  Paris  that  my  children  might  remain  with  me 
there. 

"  The  displeasure  of  your  majesty  is  so  injurious  to  those 
who  incur  it,  that  I  cannot  make  a  step  in  Europe  without 
feeling  its  effects.  Some  are  fearful  of  compromising  them- 
selves by  seeing  me;  others  consider  themselves  Romans  in 
disregarding  these  fears.  The  simplest  social  relations  become 
services  which  a  proud  mind  cannot  accept. 

"  Among  my  friends  are  some  who  have  shared  my  fate 
with  incredible  magnanimity ;  but  I  have  also  seen  the  most 
ardent  affections  recoil  from  the  necessity  of  living  with  me  in 
the  solitude ;  and  for  eight  years  past  my  life  has  been  divided 
between  the  fear  of  imposing  sacrifices,  and  the  grief  to  see 
them  made. 

"  It  is,  perhaps,  silly  of  me  to  give  the  master  of  the  world  a 
detailed  account  of  my  impressions ;  buj  that  which  subjected 
the  world  to  you,  Sire,  was  your  genius,  which  penetrates  and 
dominates  everything.  In  your  wonderful  knowledge  of  hu- 
man nature,  your  majesty  understands  both  its  highest  and 
most  delicate  strings. 


456  MADAME    BE   STAEL. 

"My  sons  have  no  prospects  of  a  brilliant  career;  my 
daughter  has  reached  her  thirteenth  year ;  in  a  few  years  she 
will  preside  over  a  household  of  her  own  ;  it  would  be  selfish 
in  me  to  compel  her  to  pass  her  youth  at  the  obscure  places  to 
which  I  am  exiled.  So  I  should  have  to  part  with  her,  too. 

"  Such  a  life,  therefore,  is  intolerable,  and  I  am  unable  to 
find  any  relief  on  the  continent.  What  city  could  I  select 
where  the  displeasure  of  your  majesty  would  not  be  an  insur- 
mountable obstacle  both  to  the  success  of  my  children,  and  to 
my  personal  tranquillity  ? 

"  Your  majesty  is,  perhaps,  not  aware  of  the  anxiety  with 
which  most  of  your  functionaries  look  upon  exiles.  I  could 
communicate  to  you  in  regard  to  this  point  details  which  must 
certainly  be  contrary  to  your  instructions. 

"  Your  majesty  has  been  told  that  I  long  to  return  to  Paris 
for  the  sake  of  the  Museum  and  of  Talma ;  this  is  a  pleasant  joke 
on  exile — that  is  to  say,  the  calamity  which  Cicero  and  Boling- 
broke  have  pronounced  the  most  intolerable  of  all ;  but  if  I 
love  the  masterpieces  of  art,  for  which  France  is  indebted  to 
the  conquests  of  your  majesty — if  I  love  those  beautiful  trage- 
dies in  which  the  struggles  of  heroism  are  portrayed,  can  you 
find  fault  with  me  for  it,  Sire  ? 

"  The  happiness  of  men  depends  on  the  character  of  their 
individual  qualities ;  and  if  heaven  has  endowed  me  with 
talents,  do  I  not  possess  an  imagination  which  requires  the 
enjoyment  of  the  fine  arts  and  of  dramatic  literature  ? 

"  So  many  persons  ask  of  your  majesty  all  sorts  of  real 
benefits,  why  should  I  blush  to  ask  of  you  friendship,  poesy, 
music,  paintings,  the  whole  ideal  world,  which  I  may  enjoy 
without  detracting  from  the  reverence  due  to  the  sovereign  of 
France  ?  " 

The  Emperor  Napoleon  frequently  read  at  the  breakfast-table 


THE    SICK   HERO.  457 

novels  or  other  literary  productions  of  the  day ;  and  all  books 
that  displeased  him,  he  instantly  flung  into  the  fire-place  by  his 
side ;  such  was  also  the  fate  of  the  work  on  Germany,  which 
Madame  de  Stael  had  sent  him.  *  Scarcely  had  he  read  half 
an  hour  in  it,  when  he  threw  it  into  the  flames ;  and,  as  it 
blazed  up,  he  ordered  the  police  to  hasten  to  the  publisher  and 
destroy  the  whole  edition  In  the  same  manner;  at  the  same 
time,  the  authoress  was  to  be  informed  that  she  must  leave 
France  in  the  course  of  three  days.  Such  was  the  answer  to 
her  mild  and  conciliatory  letter. 

Her  friends  hardly  dared  to  inform  her  of  the  new  blow  that 
had  befallen  her.  Finally,  M.  de  Montmorency  broke  the 
dreadful  news  to  her  as  delicately  as  possible.  She  burst  into 
bitter  tears. 

Her  last  hope  was  gone.  She  gave  way  to  her  despair. 
What  remained  to  her  now  ? 

She  returned  to  Fosse,  where  gensd'armes  had  already  sur- 
rounded her  house.  They  were  to  seize  even  her  manuscript, 
in  order  to  destroy  every  vestige  of  her  work.  Vain  endeavor ! 
She  gave  them  an  imperfect  copy,  and  saved  the  whole  manu- 
script. 

Whither  was  she  now  to  wend  her  way  but  to  America,  the 
land  of  liberty?  Ships  were  ready  to  set  sail  for  the  New 
World.  But  few  days  of  preparation  were  necessary,  and  she 
asked  permission  to  remain  in  France  until  she  was  ready  to 
embark.  The  short  delay  was  granted  to  her,  but  at  the  same 
time  the  ports  where  she  would  be  permitted  to  embark  were 
named  to  her,  and  thus  the  Government  thwarted  her  intention 
to  go  to  America  by  way  of  England.  Without  landing  in 
England,  and  meeting  her  friends  who  lived  there,  she  had 
not  the  courage  to  embark  for  the  other  hemisphere ;  and  as 

*  "Memoirs  of  Constant,  Napoleon's  Valet-de-Chambre."    Vol.  IV. 
20 


458  MADAME    DE    STAEI,. 

she  had  to  choose  between  America  and  Coppet,  she  finally  de- 
cided in  favor  of  the  latter. 

She  passed  the  winter  in  a  mournful  state  of  mind.  Even 
literary  employment  was  wanting  to  her,  inasmuch  as  she  had 
not  the  heart  to  write  anything  after  the  fate  which  had  be- 
fallen her  last  work.  Her  strength  was  paralyzed,  the  wings 
of  her  mind  drooped,  her  nights  were  sleepless,  and  the  only 
remedy  by  which  she  was  able  to  alleviate  her  sufferings  and 
to  give  a  seeming  slumber  to  her  tearful  eyes,  was  the  constant 
use  of  opium.  Blow  after  blow  struck  her  now,  and  bowed 
her  deeper  and  deeper. 

In  the  first  place,  Schlegel  was  ordered  to  leave  Switzerland, 
because  the  Emperor  disapproved  of  his  views  on  literature, 
and  was  especially  angry  with  him  for  having  preferred  the 
Phaedra  of  Euripides  to  that  of  Racine. 

This  was  ridiculous ;  but  what  other  reason  could  be  alleged, 
as  long  as  the  true  one — his  attachment  to  Madame  de  Stael's 
family — had  to  be  concealed  ?  So  she  had  to  part  with  the 
friend  to  whose  presence  she  had  been  accustomed  for  eight 
years  past ;  slie  had  to  give  him  up  at  a  moment  when  his  loss 
was  doubly  painful  to  her. 

Next,  it  was  Mathieu  de  Montmorency's  turn.  He  was  not 
the  man  to  desert  his  friend  in  the  days  of  her  adversity ;  he  had 
already  repeatedly  spent  some  time  with  her ;  he  now  hastened 
again  to  Coppet,  and  was  exiled  in  consequence.  Madame  de 
Stael  was  in  despair  at  the  punishment  inflicted  on  her  gen- 
erous friend.  She  uttered  piercing  cries  of  grief,  and  refused 
to  be  comforted.  She  resorted  again  to  strong  doses  of  opium, 
in  order  to  allay  the  gnawing  pain  of  her  thoughts,  and  obtain 
momentary  forgetful  ness. 

When  she  awoke  to  consciousness,  M.  de  Montmorency  tried 
to  impart  to  her  the  tranquillity  which  he  acquired  by  seeing 


THE   SICK   HERO.  45 'J 

the  hand  of  God  in  all  events ;  but  prayer  proved  ineffectual 
in  healing  the  wounds  of  her  heart.  The  thought  that  a  friend 
had  to  suffer  for  her  sake,  was  intolerable  to  her,  and  rendered 
life  itself  burdensome  to  her. 

A  letter  from  Madame  Recamier,  announcing  her  speedy  ar- 
rival at  Coppet,  rilled  her,  not  with  joy,  but  with  terror. 
What  if  she  should  likewise  incur  the  Emperor's  displeasure 
by  this  act  of  friendship  ? 

Upon  her  arrival,  Madame  de  Stael  implored  her  not  to 
remain  at  Coppet.  Vain  endeavor !  Her  beautiful  friend  re- 
fused to  pass  her  door,  and  she  received  Madame  Recamier  with 
streaming  tears,  and  fearful  of  the  consequences  in  which  this 
step  might  involve  the  beautiful  lady,  in  the  walls  of  thia 
chateau,  where  her  arrival  had  so  often  been  greeted  with 
heartfelt  joy. 

Already,  early  next  morning,  Madame  Recamier  left  Cop- 
pet  again,  but  her  speedy  departure  was  of  no  avail ;  she  was 
banished  from  Paris. 

"  Madame  de  Stael,"  said  the  Prefect  of  Geneva,  "  leads  an 
agreeable  life  at  her  home;  her  friends  and  acquaintances 
come  from  distant  points  to  visit  her,  and  the  Emperor  is  de- 
termined not  to  suffer  this  any  longer." 

She  had  never  published  a  word  of  praise  in  regard  to  Na- 
poleon ;  that  was  her  crime.  She  would  have  even  now  re- 
stored liberty  to  herself  and  her  friends  by  bestowing  encomi- 
ums on  the  Emperor ;  but  she  refused  to  do  so. 

It  was  suggested  to  her  to  celebrate  at  least  the  birth  of  the 
King  of  Rome,  but  she  declined  acting  upon  this  suggestion, 
too,  saying  she  did  not  know  what  to  say  about  it,  except  that 
she  wished  the  little  King,  with  all  her  heart,  a  good  wet- 
nurse. 
Napoleon  was  intent  on  fovcing  her  to  undergo  this  humilia- 


460       .  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

tion,  and  her  persistent  refusals  incited  him  to  fresh  persecu- 
tions. The  world  bowed  to  him,  and  this  woman  dared  to  bid 
him  defiance !  More  friends  of  hers  were  exiled,  and  all  who 
approached  her  incurred  the  displeasure  of  the  Emperor.  "  He 
who  is  not  for  me,"  he  said,  "is  against  me;  he  who  visits 
Madame  de  Stael  is  my  enemy."  Gensd'armes  watched  the 
long  alley  leading  to  Coppet ;  they  stopped  all  guests,  and  took 
down  their  names.  Finally  no  one  could  venture  any  longer 
to  go  to  her,  and  she  looked  forward  to  the  time  when  she 
would  be  entirely  alone  with  her  children — a  prisoner  in  her 
chateau.  Her  imagination  depicted  to  her  the  most  frightful 
calamities.  She  fancied  that  her  children,  too,  would  be  taken 
from  her,  and  that  she  would  at  last  suffer  the  fate  of  Mary 
Stuart.  She  felt  that  she  must  flee,  and  was  determined  to  do 
so ;  but  whither  ? 

At  this  trying  time,  the  gloom  of  which  was  heightened  by 
her  passionate  temperament,  which  knew  no  resignation,  there 
remained  to  her  but  one  source  from  which  she  drew  consolation ; 
it  was  the  passionate  love  of  the  pale,  sick  Rocca,  who  was 
bent  from  the  very  first  on  compelling  her,  by  the  ardor  of  his 
attachment,  to  bestow  her  affections  on  him.  No  dangers  de- 
terred him  from  staying  with  her ;  he  was  determined  to  re- 
main, even  though  all  should  flee  her ;  and  he  pledged  himself 
to  share  her  lot,  even  though  it  should  be  the  scaffold.  Upon 
hearing  such  protestations,  she  shook  her  head  mournfully. 

"  You  are  determined  to  do  what  you  cannot  do,"  she  said; 
"you  must  succumb  to  force;  every  hour,  every  minute,  can 
bring  you  the  order  to  leave  me  for  ever ;  and  what  then  ?  " 

"  Give  me  the  right  to  stay  with  yon,"  he  cried,  imploringly. 
"  Enable  me  to  meet  the  tyrant's  agents  at  the  moment  of  dan 
ger,  with  the  letter  of  a  law  which  imposes  on  me  the  duty  to 
stand  by  your  side  as  a  protector  in  adversity  and  death." 


THE   SICK   HEKO.  401 

She  understood  him,  and,  surprised  at  the  proposal,  was 
silent  But  the  anxiety  caused  by  her  perilous  position,  the 
sense  of  loneliness  which  had  weighed  her  down  for  so  many 
years,  and  the  desire  to  be  loved,  which  became  more  and 
more  intense  since  she  had  been  compelled  to  part  with  all  her 
friends,  finally  induced  her  to  yield  to  his  pressing  supplica- 
tions. This  led  to  new  embarrassments  and  many  unpleasant 
conflicts ;  but  she  had  found  a  friend  upon  whom  she  could 
count  in  an  emergency.  This  conviction  did  her  good,  and  de- 
termined her  to  go  to  England,  though  by  a  circuitous  route, 
passing  through  none  of  the  States  friendly  to  Napoleon. 

Madame  de  Stael  to  Madame  Eecamier. 

"  I  bid  you  farewell,  dear  angel  of  my  life,  with  all  the  ten- 
derness of  which  my  heart  is  capable.  I  recommend  Augustus 
to  you ;  may  he  see  you  and  meet  me  again !  You  are  a 
heavenly  creature.  Had  I  lived  near  you,  I  should  have  been 
only  too  happy ;  but  fate  carries  me  away.  Adieu." 

With  these  lines,  she  took  leave  of  her  friend,  whom  she  was 
not  to  meet  again  until  during  the  Restoration. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE  FLIGHT. 

MADAME  DE  STAEL  hastened  from  land  to  land,  from  city  to 
city,  without  getting  rid  of  her  despondency.  Her  journey 
led  her  by  way  of  Vienna  to  Moscow ;  she  passed  through 
regions  entirely  foreign  to  her,  and  almost  impassahle.  She 
visited  the  ancient  city  of  the  Czars,  and  the  brilliant  St.  Peters- 
burg; everywhere  she  met  with  the  most  cordial  reception, 
and  her  genius  created  here,  too,  a  great  sensation ;  but  what 
escaped  further  and  further  from  her,  was  tranquillity  and 
happiness. 

The  exile  and  fugitive  now  bore  in  her  breast  a  worm  gnaw- 
ing at  her  heart.  For  the  first  time  of  her  life  she  kept  some- 
thing secret ;  she  concealed  her  emotions  and  a  step  which  she 
had  taken.  She  had  the  utmost  difficulty  in  doing  so ;  and  it 
was  only  the  thought  of  the  illustrious  name  she  bore,  that 
caused  her  to  impose  this  sacrifice  on  her  ambition. 

She  was  accompanied  by  her  full-grown  daughter,  from 
whom  she  wished  to  conceal  her  union  with  Rocca. 

A  son  who  had  reached  the  age  of  manhood,  sat  opposite  to 
her.  How  could  she  have  confessed  to  him  that  her  longing 
for  love,  for  the  happiness  of  a  union  with  a  beloved  husband, 
had  induced  her  to  bestow  her  hand  upon  a  young  man  who 
was  not  even  on  a  footing  of  equality  with  her  as  far  as  rank 
and  social  position  were  concerned  ? 

While  she  was  thus  compelled  to  carefully  watch  over  her 


THE    FLIGHT. 


463 


words,  nay,  over  the  expression  of  her  face,  lest  she  should 
betray  her  secret,  her  eyes  perceived  in  the  distance  the  pro- 
gress of  the  French  armies,  which  almost  followed  in  h 
footsteps,  and  filled  her  here,  too,  with  uneasiness,  so  that  she 
was  at  a  loss  to  know  whether  she  should  go  from  Moscow  to 
Constantinople,  or  to  St.  Petersburg. 

Her  solicitude  for  her  daughter  caused  her  to  go  to  St  Peters- 
burg, and  she  left  behind  the  city  of  the  Czars,  which  was  abou 
to  be  laid  in  ashes. 

At  St  Petersburg,  too,  she  stayed  but  a  short  time.    She  c 
not  gaze  but  mournfully  upon  this  fast  improving  city ;  for  her 
imagination  depicted  it  to  her  devastated  by  French  arms,  and 
by  the  horrors  of  a  war  for  which  France  paid  by  far  too  dearly 
with  the  lives  of  her  sons. 

Sweden,  the  native  country  of  her  husband,  offered 
more  tranquil  and  secure  asylum;  and  so  she  hastened,  after  a 
two  weeks'  sojourn,  from  St.  Petersburg  to  Stockholm,  whe 
8he  felt  safe  again  for  the  first  time  in  many  months. 

She  was  intimately  acquainted  with  Bernadotte.  She  shared 
his  love  of  France,  and  deplored  with  him  the  misfortunes 
which  her  country,  under  the  usurper's  scepter,  had  brought 
upon  Europe.  Her  heart  bled  at  the  disasters  of  the  French 
army,  whose  wretched  remnants,  a  prey  to  the  most  horrible 
Bufferings,  were  now  fleeing  back  to  their  native  country. 

Here,  in  Stockholm,  she  wrote  her  easay  on  Suicide,  which 
she  dedicated  to  the  Crown  Prince  of  Sweden. 

In  the  spring  of  1813  she  went  to  England,  just  after  the 
armistice  had  been  concluded  between  Napoleon  and  the  Allied 
Powers.  The  Emperor  was  in  Dresden ;  he  was  still  able,  to  re- 
main the  sovereign  of  France,  and  rule  over  territories  extend- 
ing to  the  Rhine,  and  embracing  the  kingdom  of  Italy.  It  was 
do°ubtful,  however,  if  England  would  accede  to  such  a  treaty. 


4G4  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

Madame  de  Stael  landed  in  June  on  the  green  shores  of  Albion. 
She  rode  from  Harwich  to  London,  a  distance  of  seventy  miles, 
as  through  aland  of  promise;  gentle  heights,  alternated  with 
fertile  plains,  in  which  were  to  be  seen,  along  the  whole  road, 
villa  after  villa,  surrounded  by  magnificent  gardens  and  parks. 
Everything  on  which  her  eyes  fell,  indicated  prosperity.  No- 
where was  to  be  seen  a  hovel  of  wretchedness,  or  a  figure  dressed 
in  rags ;  the  very  cattle  in  the  fields  shared  this  general  pros- 
perity. And  yet  the  French  journals  had  asserted,  again  and 
again,  that  that  country,  weighed  down  as  it  was  by  its  public 
debt,  was  destitute  of  the  elements  of  vitality. 

Madame  de  Stael  had  always  been  an  ardent  admirer  of  the 
English  constitution,  and,  during  her  sojourn  in  that  country, 
she  learned  to  attach  a  still  higher  value  to  it.  She  familiarized 
herself  with  all  public  institutions ;  she  attended  the  sessions  of 
the  courts ;  she  listened  to  the  proceedings  of  Parliament ;  and 
all  that  she  heard  and  saw,  added  to  her  admiration  of  the  coun- 
try and  its  inhabitants.  She  called  the  English  constitution  un 
beau  monument  de  Vordre  social,  which  Providence  had  vouch- 
safed to  Great  Britain,  that  other  nations  might  not  only 
admire,  but  also  imitate  it. 

Public  opinion  is  all-powerful  in  England;  it  is  the  real 
ruler  of  the  country.  Hence,  popularity  is  the  goal  to  which 
everybody  aspires,  and  emulation  often  produces  the  most  pro- 
digious strength.  The  enthusiasm  with  which  a  whole  people 
greeted  the  deed  of  an  individual,  the  thundering  applause  of 
the  multitudes,  the  cheers  of  thousands  upon  thousands,  de- 
lighted Madame  de  Stael.  The  funeral  of  Nelson,  and  the  re- 
ception of  Wellington,  seemed  to  her  the  ideal  of  popular  ap- 
plause bestowed  upon  glory. 

"Ah  !  quelle  enivrante  jouissance  que  celU  do  la  popularite  !  " 
ehe  exclaimed,  believing  that  there  was  no  greater  happiness 


THE   FLIGHT.  465 

than  that  of  receiving  such  applause.     She  met  with  a  brilliant 
reception.    Her  genius  was  ardently  admired,  and  no  one  here 
took  umbrage  at  the  interest  which  she  took  in  politics, 
women  of  England  have  always  paid  attention  to  that  whi 
en-rossed  the  thoughts  of  the  men,  so  that  Madame  de  S 
wa°s  here  in  her  proper  element.    She  was  distinguished  by  tl 
women,  esteemed  by  the  men,  and  not  a  voice  was  raised 
charge  her  with  unfeminine  conduct. 

Even  Schlegel  had  formerly  often  complained  that  too  muc 
attention  was  devoted  to  politics  in  her  **»,  while  he  took  ir 
terest  in  nothing  but  literature.     She  therefore  regretted 
he  had  remained  with  Bernadotte,  in  Stockholm,  and  did  not 
witness  her  triumph  in  England,  which  would  have  convm 
him  that  he  had  been  mistaken. 

However,  scarcely  had  her  soul  derived  fresh  elasticity  and 
vitality  from    these    cheering    impressions,  when  a  new  and 
crushing  blow  befell  her.    Her  second  son,  who  had  remained 
in  Sweden,  was  killed  there  in  a  duel.     She  loved  her  children 
dearly  and  the  destruction  of  such  a  young  and  promising  lite, 
filled  her  with  despair.    As  usual,  she  was  unable  to  bear  t 
cruel  bereavement  with  fortitude;  and  to  soothe  her  grief,  si 
resorted  again  to  opium. 

On  the  31st  of  March,  the  Allies  had  made  their  entry  into 
Paris  the  Emperor  of  Russia  and  the  King  of  Prussia  heading 
the  columns  of  their  troops.    Madame  de  Stael  was  now  at  1 
erty  to  return  to  her  native  country,  on  whose  soil  she  was  1 
set  foot  in  a  mournful  state  of  mind,  and  amidst  sadly  alte 
circumstances. 

She  had  profited  by  her  sojourn  in  England  to  publish  her 
work  on  Germany,  the  manuscript  of  which  she  had  1 
with  her  iVom  Coppet.    Amidst  the  clang  of  arms,  it  could  not 
attract  the  attention  which  was  afterward  bestowed  upoi 
20* 


406  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

and  for  the  time  being,  she  had  to  content  herself  with  the 
satisfaction  of  having  saved  it. 

She  landed  at  Calais.  For  ten  years  she  had  been  exiled 
from  this  soil — for  ten  long  years.  She  joyfully  set  foot  on  the 
French  shore,  and  her  heart  throbbed  more  rapidly  at  the 
thought  that  she  was  now  again  at  home,  and  that  she  had  spent, 
and  might  spend  yet,  so  many  happy  days  in  this  country.  She 
was  again  animated  with  bright  hopes. 

But  painful  impressions  were  soon  to  lessen  this  first  flush  of 

joy- 
Prussian  uniforms  met  her  eyes  as  soon  as  she  had  landed, 
and  the  town  itself  was  occupied  by  foreign  troops.  She 
grieved  deeply  at  this  state  of  affairs.  Although  the  invaders 
had  humiliated  her  personal  enemy,  the  disgrace  of  her  country 
prevented  her  from  gloating  over  his  misfortunes.  She  deeply 
lamented  the  fate  of  France,  and  said  that  only  a  foreign  tyrant 
could  have  exposed  her  to  calamities  to  which  her  native 
rulers,  no  matter  how  deplorable  their  weakness  might  have 
been,  would  never  have  subjected  her. 

Her  heart  weighed  down  by  such  thoughts,  she  continued 
her  journey.  The  nearer  she  came  to  Paris,  the  more  painful 
grew  her  emotions  at  the  sight  of  the  vast  masses  of  troops 
from  all  countries  of  Europe,  which  were  assembled  in  the  en- 
virons of  the  capital.  They  were  encamped  around  the  church 
of  St.  Denis,  where  the  ashes  of  the  French  Kings  reposed, 
and  desecrated  this  hallowed  soil  by  singing  their  native  hymns 
on  the  grave  of  St.  Louis. 

At  last  she  reached  the  gates  of  Paris.  But  was  she  awake, 
or  had  a  dismal  dream  captivated  her  reason?  Such  was  the 
question  which  she  asked  herself  as  she  rode  through  the  streets 
of  the  city,  where  she  saw  so  many  foreigners,  as  if  France  had 
ceased  to  exist.  The  Louvre  and  the  Tuileries  were  occupied 


THE   PLIGHT.  467 

by  Prussian  soldiers,  and  she  had  to  suffer  the  humiliation  of 
submitting  to  the  decrees  and  orders  of  foreigners. 

"  Tai  un  chagrin  rongeur  sur  cette  France,  que  faime  plus  qw 
jamais"  she  had  said  in  exile.  "  Je  sens  distinctement  que  je  ne 
puts  mvre  sans  celte  France." 

And  now  she  had  returned  to  France  and  to  Paris,  and 
sighed  at  the  thought  that  it  did  not  offer  her  what  she  had  ex- 
pected to  find  there ;  for  she  was  too  ardent  a  patriot  to  be  in- 
sensible to  the  humiliations  which  her  country  was  compelled 
to  undergo. 

In  St.  Petersburg,  Madame  de  Stael  had  repeatedly  conversed 
with  the  Emperor  Alexander.  She  was  glad  to  meet  him  again 
in  Paris,  and,  still  engrossed  as  she  was  with  admiration  of  the 
English  constitution,  she  told  him  that  she  congratulated  his 
subjects  on  being  governed  by  him  so  well  without  such  a 
fundamental  law.  He  gave  her  the  well-known  answer: 

"  Je  ne  suis  qu'un  accident  keureux,  Madame." 

She  now  looked  around  for  her  old  friends,  the  companions 
of  better  and  happier  days.  What  had  become  of  all  of  them  ? 

Benjamin  Constant  had  quietly  lived  at  GOttingen,  while 
she  had  traveled  through  the  world ;  he  had  collected  there, 
materials  for  his  great  work  on  the  religions  of  the  nations. 
Since  he  had  been  unable  to  accompany  Madame  de  Stael,  whose 
wonderful  genius  attracted  him  again  and  again  with  magic 
force  whenever  he  thought  he  had  emancipated  himself  from 
her  influence ;  since  he  had  been  compelled  to  part  with  her, 
the  sweet  joys  of  his  domestic  life  had  contented  him,  and  he 
passed  his  days  in  cheerful  intercourse  with  the  distinguished 
men,  such  as  Villers,  Goerres,  Kreutzer,  and  Heyne,  whom  he 
met  in  the  small  university  town. 

Here  he  wrote,  in  the  midst  of  the  remnants  of  the  grand 
army  of  the  poor  mutilated  soldiers  who  passed  through  the 


468  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

quiet  town  after  the  disasters  of  the  Russian  campaign,  and 
amidst  the  booming  of  the  cannon  of  Bautzen  and  Leipzig, 
his  famous  book,  U  Esprit  de  Conquete  et  de  F  Usurpation,  which 
created  the  greatest  sensation  at  that  period. 

Of  Madame  de  Stael  he  had  received  no  other  news  than 
such  as  the  newspapers  contained;  for  the  governments  did  not 
respect  the  secrets  of  the  mails ;  her  letters  were  opened ;  and  as 
she  was  well  aware  of  it,  she  took  good  care  not  to  write  to 
her  intimate  friends. 

Besides,  her  relations  with  Rocca  had  widened  the  gulf  be- 
tween her  and  Constant.  She  was  unwilling  to  confess  to  the 
latter  that  she  had  adopted  the  obscure  and  sick  young  man  as 
her  protector  and  friend ;  she  was  clear-sighted  enough  to  per- 
ceive the  humiliating  side  of  this  union,  and  she  was  afraid 
lest  Constant  should  discover  in  her  letters  what  she  wished  to 
conceal  from  him. 

No  sooner  had  Benjamin  Constant  heard  that  she  was  about 
to  return  to  Paris,  than  he  left  GSttingen,  hastened  to  Coppet, 
where  he  joined  her  eldest  son,  Augustus,  and  went  with  him, 
in  Bernadotte's  suite,  by  way  of  Brussels  to  Paris. 

A  few  days  after  his  arrival,  he  published  in  the  Journal  des 
DebaU  of  April  21, 1814,  an  article  on  the  Restoration,  whose 
leading  idea  was  the  neutrality  of  the  royal  power,  and  by 
which  he  laid  the  foundations  of  the  new  parliamentary  oppo- 
sition. 

A  new  field  now  opened  to  his  activity ;  a  new  life  dawned 
upon  him ;  his  enthusiasm  awoke,  and  his  writings  and 
speeches  bore  witness  to  the  ardor  with  which  he  glowed  for 
the  glory  and  honor  of  France.  In  this  frame  of  mind  he  ar- 
rived one  morning,  at  the  house  of  Madame  de  Stael,  who  was 
engaged  in  her  toilet,  and  had  her  hair  dressed  at  that  moment. 

She  met  him  in  deep  emotion. 


THE   FLIGHT.  469 

His  appearance  had  undergone  a  marked  change  since  they 
had  last  seen  each  other ;  nor  had  she  remained  the  same.  Al- 
though time  had  dealt  more  gently  with  her  than  with  him, 
she  had  inwardly  grown  much  older  than  he. 

M.  de  Rebecque  was  now  forty-seven  years  old ;  so  he  was 
at  the  height  of  his  physical  and  intellectual  strength.  His 
head  was  bald,  his  hair  gray ;  and  his  eyes,  which  had  once 
looked  so  bright  and  hopeful,  were  deeply  buried  in  their 
sockets.  Only  his  enthusiasm  had  not  left  him,  and  with  it  ho 
hopefully  looked  forward  to  the  new  era  which  he  thought  was 
dawning  upon  France ;  in  this  point  he  and  Madame  de  Stael 
agreed  once  again  before  life  parted  them  for  evermore. 

She  now  presented  to  him  the  pale,  grave  Rocca,  of  whose 
existence  Benjamin  Constant  knew  nothing.  The  sick  young 
man  cast  on  him  a  searching  glance,  which  Constant  met 
in  the  same  spirit;  but  neither  of  them  uttered  his  secret 
thoughts. 

Madame  de  Stael  met  M.  de  Montmorency,  too,  in  Paris, 
where  he  had  lived  for  some  time  past  under  the  surveillance 
of  the  police.  Their  friendship  remained  as  cordial  as  ever, 
though  their  political  views  differed  more  and  more.  Mont- 
morency shortly  after  w«nt  to  Ghent,  in  order  to  lay  the  wishes 
of  the  Royalists  before  Louis  the  Eighteenth.  Madame  de  Stael, 
on  her  part,  was  still  an  ardent  lover  of  liberty,  and  advocated 
her  political  principles  with  as  much  zeal  and  eloquence  as 
before. 

Madame  Recamier  had  traveled  abroad  since  Napoleon  had 
exiled  her,  and  she  had  not  yet  returned  to  Paris.  Madame  de 
Stael  wrote  to  her: 

"  PABIS,  May  20, 1814 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  be  without  you  in  Paris,  dear  angel  of  my 
life.  Inform  me  of  your  plans.  Shall  I  meet  you  at  Coppet, 


470  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

where  I  intend  to  spend  four  months  ?  After  so  many  suffer- 
ings, I  build  my  sweetest  hopes  on  you." 

Narbonne  was  the  only  intimate  friend  whom  she  was  not  to 
meet  again.  Having  entered  the  service  of  Napoleon  some 
time  ago,  he  had  first  been  appointed  Governor  of  Raab,  and  in 
1813  he  had  died  of  typhoid  fever  at  Torgau. 

The  Restoration  meanwhile  progressed  very  rapidly,  and 
Madame  de  Stael  dreamed  afresh  of  u  constitutional  kingdom. 
Although  she  was  in  feeble  health,  she  yielded  to  these  hopes 
with  all  her  ardent  zeal,  while  Benjamin  Constant  earnestly 
warned  her  against  overtaxing  her  failing  strength.  His  activ- 
ity as  a  journalist  was  perfectly  incredible,  and  his  energy  and 
perseverance  increased  with  the  obstacles  which  he  had  to  sur- 
mount 


CHAPTER  XVIL 

THE   EAGLE   AT    THE  TOTLERIES. 

MADAME  DE  STAEL  had  returned  in  autumn,  after  a  brief 
sojourn  at  Coppet,  to  Paris,  which  the  Allied  Powers  had  left  in 
the  meantime.    She  hopefully  looked  forward  to  the  winter, 
rented  a  fine  house  on  Rue  Royale,  and  opened  her  salon  to  ft 
brilliant  society  of  the  capital.    In  spite  of  her  feeble  health,  she 
would  not  and  could  not  do  without  the  enjoyments  of  « 
life  -  hence,  she  resisted  her  sufferings  to  the  best  of  her  power, 
and'concealed  from  her  friends  her  disease,  which  was  not  vis, 
ble  in  her  appearance. 

Her  friends  had  never  seen  her  sick,  and  therefore  believed 
that  she  was  now,  too,  in  good  health.    Heat  and  cold  and  1 
change  of  the  seasons  had  never  produced  any  injurious  eftect 
upon  her.    It  had  never  been  necessary  for  her  to  devote  any 
attention  to  the  preservation  of  her  health,  and  her  menta 
restlessness  had  even  rendered  it  needless  for  her  to  take  regu- 
lar exercise     She  never  knew  nervous  weakness,  and 
fore  did  not  believe  in  it.    '<  Sauraispuetre  malade  comme  une 
aulre  "  she  said, "  ri  je  n'avais  pas  mincu  la  nature  physique 
Bui  even  though  she  had  been  able  to  overcome  slight  i 
positions  by  the  strength  of  her  will,  she  could  not  stem  in  this 
manner  the  disease  now  preying  upon  her.    No  will  is  able 
overcome  sleepless  nights. 

.  She  was  now  in  the  midst  of  a  new  world  in  that  city  c 
Paris  for  which  she  had  pined  so  long.  A  Bourbon  sat  o; 
the  throne,  and  slowly  destroyed  all  her  precious  dreams. 


472  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

Festivals  were  given  in  Paris.  Madame  de  Stael  had  to  in- 
troduce to  the  brilliant  society  of  the  capital  her  only  daughter, 
to  whom  she  wished  to  secure  a  home  of  her  own.  Albertine 
de  Stael  was  to  marry  a  man  whom  she  loved,  and  she  became 
Duchess  de  Broglie. 

Her  son  Augustus,  a  grave  young  man  of  excellent  character, 
did  not  stay  a  long  time  in  Paris,  inasmuch  as  the  quiet  life  of 
Coppet  was  more  agreeable  to  him. 

Rocca  lived  w  ith  her,  but  never  appeared  by  her  side  in 
public.  He  submitted  to  this  incognito  which  she  imposed 
on  him,  in  order  not  to  betray  to  her  children  the  weakness 
of  which  she  had  been  guilty.  The  pale,  sickly  man  played 
the  part  of  a  faithful  friend  of  the  family ;  the  world,  however, 
contemplated  him  with  a  malicious  smile.  Madame  de  Stael 
did  not  take  any  notice  of  it.  She  was  conscious  oflTo  wrong ; 
and  his  love,  whose  warmth  consoled  her  hi  all  gloomy  hours, 
and  animated  her  with  fresh  hope  and  courage,  was  worth  more 
to  her  than  the  sneers  of  the  world. 

Madame  Recamier  had  now  returned  to  Paris.  She  had  al- 
ways been  a  friend  of  the  Bourbons,  upon  whom  she  looked,  in 
her  piety,  as  the  rulers  of  France  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  so 
her  house  became  the  rendezvous  of  the  Royalists. 

Madame  de  Stael  differed  with  her  friend  on  this  point ;  but 
the  respect  which  she  always  entertained  for  genuine  convic- 
tions, prevented  her  from  opposing  her  otherwise  than  with  the 
warm  words  of  her  own  convictions,  and  their  friendship  did 
not  suffer  in  consequence. 

It  was,  however,  soon  to  be  put  to  a  new  test.  Benjamin 
Constant,  hitherto  an  ardent  adherent  of  the  constitutional 
party,  whose  principles  he  had  advocated  for  fifteen  years  past, 
suddenly  kept  away  from  the  soirees  of  Madame  de  Stael,  and 
society  asked  hi  surprise  why  he  did  so.  He  himself  evaded 


THE    EAGLE    AT   THE    TUILERIES.  473 

in  confusion  all  inquiries  on  this  subject.  But  fame  did  not 
keep  silent,  and  was  not  long  in  informing  Madame  de  Stael 
of  the  cause  of  his  desertion. 

An  ardent  passion  for  her  beautiful  friend  had  suddenly 
seized  him.  The  grave,  bald-headed  man  loved  her  with  the 
ardor  of  early  youth,  and  basked  only  in  the  sunshine  of  her 
eyes.  He  had  known  her  for  many  years  past,  without  being 
enamored  of  her ;  and  now,  when  earnest  life  had  ripened  hi?, 
mind,  and  so  many  grave  events  counseled  moderation  to  him^ 
he  suddenly  forgot  the  whole  world,  and  threw  himself  at  hei 
feet,  and  obeyed  her  slightest  wishes.  His  attachment  to  Mad- 
ame de  Recamier  silenced  his  hatred  of  the  Bourbons,  and  it 
was  her  spirit  which  caused  him  to  denounce  Napoleon  ii 
unmeasured  terms. 

Madame  de  Stael  regretted  the  course  which  her  formei 
protege  pursued.  She  was  indifferent  to  his  love,  but  she 
could  not  but  resent  his  defection  from  his  party.  She  pun- 
ished him  for  it  by  instructing  her  banker  not  to  make  any 
more  payments  to  him  on  her  account.  This  step  filled  Ian 
with  intense  indignation. 

Thus  approached  the  year  1815. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  the  6th  of  March,  Madame  de  Staet 
was  informed  that  Bonaparte,  her  enemy,  had  landed  on  the 
shores  of  France.  This  intelligence  threw  her  into  the  utmost 
consternation. 

She  knew  what  consequences  would  arise  from  this  event ; 
she  thought  the  earth  must  open  under  her  feet  and  swallow 
her  up  at  his  approach,  so  dreadful  was  the  thought  of  his 
return  to  her.  She  tried  to  pray,  but  her  lips  refused  to  open. 
Her  imagination  conjured  up  before  her  all  the  terrors  of 
hell,  and  filled  her  with  boundless  despair.  She  was  unable 
to  regain  her  composure;  and  the  dreadful  anguish  which 


474  MADAME    DE   STAEI/. 

she  suffered  during  these  days,  gave  the  death-blow  to  hef 
health. 

She  hastened  to  Madame  Recamier.  The  hour  of  danger 
and  her  terror  made  her  forgetful  of  the  obstacles  which  had 
lately  arisen  between  them.  The  terror  of  Napoleon's  name 
united  the  two  friends  again. 

She  found  Madame  Recamier  engaged  in  reading  a  letter 
which  she  had  just  received  from  Benjamin  Constant.  It  read 
as  follows : 

"  Pardon  me  for  embracing  this  opportunity  to  molest  you ; 
but  it  is  only  too  agreeable  to  me.  My  fate  will  be  decided  in  five 
or  six  days ;  for  although,  to  conceal  the  interest  you  take  in 
me,  you  refuse  to  believe  it,  I  am  convinced  that  Marmount, 
Chateaubriand,  Laine,  and  I,  are  the  four  men  in  France  whose 
lives  are  in  the  most  imminent  danger.  Hence,  it  is  certain 
that,  unless  we  defeat  him,  I  shall  in  a  week  hence  either  be 
exiled,  imprisoned,  or  shot.  Grant  me  as  much  time  as  possi- 
ble during  these  two  or  three  days  previous  to  the  battle.  In 
case  I  should  die,  it  would  do  you  good  to  have  vouchsafed 
such  kindness  to  me,  and  you  would  certainly  regret  having 
refused  my  last  prayer.  My  attachment  to  you  is  such  that  a 
mark  of  indifference  on  your  part  would  be  more  dreadful  to 
me  than  my  death-warrant  four  days  hence.  Did  you  like  my 
article,  and  did  you  hear  what  was  said  about  it  ?"  * 

"  Poor  Benjamin !  "  said  Madame  de  Stael,  as  she  returned 
the  note  to  her  beautiful  friend.  "  His  attachment  to  you,  which 
is  by  no  means  inexplicable  to  me,  mon  ange,  has  caused  him 
to  lose  his  head.  But  what  will  become  of  us  ?  Shall  we  stay 
here,  or  flee  ?  Mon  Dieu  !  Mon  Dieu  !  " 

Her  beautiful  friend  tried  to  calm  her.  The  Royalists  did 
not  believe  in  the  possibility  of  Napoleon's  return  to  Paris, 
*  Mduioires  de  Chateaubriand. 


THE  EAGLE  AT  THE  TUILERIES.         475 

and  she  shared  their  opinion.  Hence,  she  was  indifferent  to 
the  apprehensions  of  Benjamin  Constant,  and  she  availed  her 
self  of  her  influence  over  him  to  cause  him  to  attack  the  re 
turning  Emperor  in  more  and  more  unmeasured  terms. 

But  Madame  de  Stael  refused  to  take  the  same  hopeful  view 
of  the  future.  She  passed  three  days  in  an  agony  of  suspense. 
At  last,  on  the  9th  of  March,  when  it  was  rumored  that  the 
telegraph  had  brought  no  news  from  Lyons,  inasmuch  as  a 
cloud  had  obscured  the  view,  she  knew  what  kind  of  a  cloud 
it  was.  Was  she  to  flee  the  city  ? 

On  the  same  evening  she  went  to  the  Tuileries  to  wait  on 
Louis  the  Eighteenth.  She  found  him  seemingly  in  good 
spirits ;  but  the  uneasiness  hidden  under  his  calm  air,  did  not 
escape  her. 

The  walls  of  the  Tuileries  were  still  decorated  with  the 
eagles  of  Napoleon ;  they  had  led  him  to  many  a  victory,  and 
her  forebodings  told  her  that  they  would  not  yet  be  faithless 
to  him. 

From  the  Tuileries  she  drove  to  a  soiree,  in  order  to  hear 
what  the  Parisians  hoped  and  feared.  Here  she  found  the 
company  engaged  in  the  merriest  conversation,  and  her  anxi- 
ety was  derided.  One  of  the  ladies  said  to  her,  sneeringly: 

"  Quoif  Madame,  pouvez-vous  craindre  que  les  Fran$ais  ne  se 
battent  pas  pour  leur  roi  legitime  contre  un  usurpateur  ?  " 

These  words  seemed  to  her  preposterous.  Much  as  she  hated 
Napoleon,  she  could  not  share  the  silly  opinion  that  an  army 
which  he  had  led  to  so  many  victories,  should  forget  the  glory 
of  these  years,  and  suddenly  be  actuated  by  the  principles  of 
legitimacy. 

No  more  did  she  believe  in  the  possibility  of  a  constitutional 
empire,  and  she  smiled  at  Napoleon's  efforts  to  mislead  Paris 
by  liberal  measures. 


476  MADAME   DE   STAEL. 

"  Quiconqiie  est  loup,  agisse  en  loup, 
(Test  leplus  certain  de  beaucoup" 

she  said,  shaking  her  head,  when  her  friend  proposed  to  her  to 
join  his  party.  She  advised  those  who  wished  to  serve  him, 
to  lend  him  their  swords,  in  order  to  keep  the  foreign  armies 
from  the  frontiers  of  France,  and  through  their  patriotism  to 
regain  the  respect  of  Europe.  She  was  too  high-minded  to  con- 
sult her  personal  interests  at  this  juncture,  and  looked  with 
contempt  on  the  men  who  now  served  a  Bourbon,  and  now  a 
Napoleon. 

Benjamin  Constant  was  to  find  out  in  a  very  unpleasant  man- 
ner how  little  he  could  do  without  the  advice  of  this  lady. 
When  he  heard  that  Napoleon  had  reached  Paris,  he  was  panic- 
struck,  and  thought  only  of  his  personal  safety ;  the  courage 
on  which  he  had  prided  himself  before  Madame  Recamier  had 
been  a  self-deception  ;  he  trembled  cowardly  in  the  face  of  the 
danger ;  and  to  save  his  threatened  life,  he  hastened  to  the 
American  Embassador,  Mr.  Crawford,  whom  he  implored  to 
grant  him  an  asylum.  The  Embassador  helped  him  to  make 
his  escape  ;  but  no  sooner  had  he  left  Paris,  than  he  regretted 
what  he  had  done ;  he  had  to  return  to  the  lady  whom  he 
loved ;  he  could  not  bear  a  separation  from  her,  and  returned  to 
his  place  of  concealment. 

General  Sabastiani  met  him  there,  and  persuaded  him  to  sup- 
port the  new  Government,  and  Benjamin  Constant  was  weak 
enough  to  accept  the  position  of  Counselor  of  State  under  Na- 
poleon. 

No  sooner  had  he  taken  this  step,  than  he  rued  it ;  but  he 
could  not  retrace  it.  He  was  ashamed  to  meet  Madame  de 
Stael ;  he  was  ashamed  to  look  Madame  Recamier  in  the  face ; 
and,  to  obtain  forgetfulness,  he  became  a  gambler. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  LAST  DREAM  OF  LIFE. 

THE  Hundred  Days  were  past.  Napoleon  had  signed  his 
abdication  on  the  5th  of  July,  1815,  and  sailed  on  the  Bellero* 
pfion  for  St.  Helena.  Madame  de  Stael  had  witnessed  these 
momentous  events  from  afar.  Despite  her  hatred  of  Napo- 
leon, she  could  not  forgive  France  for  permitting  the  foreign 
troops  to  invade  her,  and  she  mourned  over  this  new  humilia- 
tion heaped  upon  her  country. 

Last  year's  events  had  taught  her  what  might  be  expected 
of  a  Bourbon.  The  egotism  of  Louis  the  Eighteenth,  who 
cared  only  for  his  own  comfort,  disgusted  her.  She  built  no 
hopes  on  the  second  Restoration,  because  the  foreign  powers 
had  forced  it  upon  France  on  their  own  terms ;  hence,  the  de- 
parture of  her  greatest  enemy  almost  left  her  cold,  and  she 
sadly  looked  forward  to  the  developments  of  the  future. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  winter,  she  returned  to  her  magnifi- 
cent house  in  the  Rue  Royale.  Benjamin  Constant  was  no 
longer  in  Paris.  Having  performed  the  undignified  task  which 
the  Chamber  had  intrusted  to  him,  in  commissioning  him  to 
implore  the  clemency  of  the  foreign  powers,  he  had,  to  escape 
from  his  remorse  and  confusion,  gone  to  England,  where  he 
issued  his  novel  Adolphe  and  his  Recollections  of  the  Hundred 
Days.  Poor  Constant !  He  had  become  the  sport  of  circum- 
stances, and  had  lost  faith  in  himself. 

Weighed  down  by  the  apprehension  that  he  might  never  be 


478  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

permitted  again  to  set  foot  on  the  soil  ot  France,  he  tried  to 
write  a  justification  of  his  conduct;  and  this  paper,  combined 
with  Decazes'  intercession,  finally  caused  the  Government  to 
consent  to  his  return  to  Paris. 

Madame  de  Stael  pitied  him,  although  her  compassion  was 
not  free  from  indignation.  She  saw  how  grievously  she  had 
mistaken  his  character;  how  few  of  the  virtues  with  which 
her  imagination  had  adorned  him,  he  possessed  in  reality ;  how 
she  alone  had  made  a  distinguished  man  of  him ;  and  how 
contemptible  had  been  his  course  since  he  had  emancipated 
himself  from  her  influence. 

Her  sleepless  nights  gave  her  much  time  for  reflection,  and 
caused  her  to  see  many  things  in  a  new  light.  She  prayed  a 
great  deal,  not  in  words  which  she  had  learned  by  heart,  but 
in  thoughts  full  of  faith  in  the  immortality  of  those  whom  God 
had  created.  She  had  never  dabbled  with  metaphysics,  nor 
with  subtle  investigations  into  the  objects  and  intentions  of 
God  in  creating  the  world.  "J'aime  mieux  Voraison  dominicale 
gue  tout cela"  she  said. 

She  loved  life ;  she  did  not  wish  to  give  it  up ;  she  did  not 
look  forward  to  death  with  a  heart  full  of  resignation.  Her 
breast  heaved  many  a  deep  sigh  as  she  felt  the  fatal  progress 
of  her  disease.  "  Poor  human  nature!"  she  said.  "Ah! 
What  is  life  ?  What  are  we  ?  Our  existence  resembles  that 
gobelin  tapestry  whose  front  does  not  exhibit  the  woof,  while 
the  reverse  shows  all  the  threads.  The  secret  of  our  life  on 
earth  consists  in  the  connection  of  our  faults  with  our  suffer- 
ings. I  never  committed  a  wrong  which  did  not  result  in  suf- 
j  fering." 

Rocco  never  left  her  now.  He  read  to  her,  comforted  her, 
cheered  her  up,  and  his  love  surrounded  her  with  a  tender 
solicitude  which  she  constantly  acknowledged  with  fervent 


THE    LAST    DEE  AM    OF    LIFE. 

imtitude  Her  children,  tenderly  as  they  were  attached  to 
her,  had  before  them  the  future  with  all  its  hopes  and  interests  ; 
but'liocco's  life  was  bound  up  in  hers. 

She  had  renewed  her  social  relations ;   she  received  a  large 
circle  of  acquaintances ;  she  was  visited  by  all  the  distinguished 
foreio-ners  who  nocked  to  the  French  capital  after  the  second 
Kestoration,andno  one  suspected  her  intense  sufferings  owing 
to  the  wonderful  control  which  she  exercised  over  herselL 
"   After  her  sleepless  nights,  she  rose  at  a  late  hour,  and  did  not 
receive  her  friends  until  toward  nightfall.    In  the  morning  si 
sat  neatly  exhausted  in  her  room  ;  the  pale  Rocca  sat  opposi 
to  her ;  and  she  listened  to  him  with  eyes  half  closed  as  he  read 
to  her  her  letters  and  the  papers. 

"You  are  exhausted,"  she  would  say  to  him  now  and 
"  Cease  reading ;  it  tires  you  too  much." 

••  I  do  not  feel  tired  as  long  as  I  am  with  you,"  he  replied, 
With  a  glance  of  tenderness,  which  brought  tears  to  her  eyes. 

«  Oh,  Rocca,  if  I  should  lose  you  t "  she  exclaimed,  gazing  at 
him  with  an  air  of  tender  anxiety. 
He  shook  his  head  incredulously. 

«  What  animates  me,  keeps  death  away  from  me,"  he  ,  ud, 
serenely.    «  An  immortal  fire  glows  in  my  veins." 

She  sighed.    "  Would  that  I  had  met  you  at  an  earli. 
she  exclaimed,  in  a  low  voice. 
A  beautiful  young  lady  entered  the  room. 
"Pardon  me  for  disturbing  you,  dear  mamma,'    she  s 
«•  There  is  in  the  ante-room  a  gentleman  whom  you  reft** 
admit  because  his  name  was  not  announced  to  you  correctly. 
He  complained  to  me  about  it,  when  I  passed  him,  and  . 
sure  you  would  regret  not  having  seen  him." 
«  Well,  who  is  it? "  asked  Madame  de  Stael,  impatie 
"  Ochlenschlager." 


480  MADAME    1)E   STAEL. 

"  Ah !  Is  it  be  ?  I  shall  certainly  be  glad  to  see  him.  Pray 
invite  him  for  to-night,  and  excuse  me  for  being  unable  to  re- 
ceive him  immediately.  Nine  years  ago,  my  friends  could  visit 
me  at  all  hours  ;  but  now  I  have  to  try  to  find  an  hour  when  I 
may  be  able  to  receive  them.  Ah !  Poor  human  nature ! " 

"  You  will  get  better,"  said  Rocca,  consolingly.  "  Next 
spring  you  will  recover  your  strength." 

"  Say  no  more  about  it,  Rocca.  My  daughter  looks  very  well 
to-day,  does  she  not?  I  hope  she  is  happy.  I  have  procured 
her  another  lot  than  that  which  fell  to  my  share.  I  have 
warned  her  against  the  dangers  of  fame  and  politics;  she  was 
not  to  imitate  in  any  manner  the  example  I  had  set  her.  I  did 
not  want  her  to  undergo  the  same  sufferings  which  had  befallen 
me.  <Tai  assez  de  moi  en  moi,  et  je  veux  qu'on  me  renvoie  autre 
chose  que  ma  wix.  We  must  educate  our  children  for  life,  and 
not  try  to  deceive  them.  I  always  told  them  the  truth,  and 
never  misled  them.  To  become  happy,  they  had  to  stand  oil 
firm  ground,  and  look  forward  to  their  future  with  unclouded 
eyes.  I  never  concealed  my  faults  from  them,  but  always 
pointed  out  to  them  the  evil  consequences  arising  therefrom. 
This  produced  the  most  salutary  effects.  My  frankness  touched 
them.  '  Si  vous  aviez  de*  torts,  non  seulement  fen  serais  mallieu- 
reuse,  mats  fen  aurais  des  rewords]  I  said  to  them.  I  was  un- 
able to  bear  my  exile.  I  did  not  set  them  an  example  of  cour- 
age and  resignation.  Fortunately,  I  have  to  suffer  for  it.  Ah, 
Rocca,  how  sad  it  is  that  our  passions  should  darken  our  mind 
and  mislead  us  so  grievously.  Pauvre  nature  humaine  !  " 

"  You  could  not  help  it,"  replied  Rocca.  "  It  was  your 
nature." 

He  comforted  her  thus  in  her  own  words.    But  she  replied : 

"  To  yield  to  one's  nature  is  weakness.  I  should  have  re- 
sisted it.  It  was  Rousseau  who  misled  me.  Now  it  is  too 


THE    LAST   DREAM    OF    LIFE.  481 

late.  But  I  only  was  weak.  I  never  was  bad  and  vicious.  I 
strove  only  for  the  good,  and  never  injured  anybody  save  my- 
self; that  is  my  consolation." 

"  Nature  had  endowed  you  with  extraordinary  gifts,  and  had 
therefore  to  exempt  you  from  the  ordinary  rules.  I  should  be 
loth  to  see  you  resemble  other  women." 

She  sighed. 

When  OchlenschlEger  appeared  in  her  salon  in  the  evening, 
lie  found  Madame  de  Stael  surrounded  by  a  brilliant  circle  of 
guests,  and  no  one  suspected  the  efforts  which  she  had  to  make 
in  order  to  play  her  part  for  a  few  hours.  The  Northern  poet 
had  to  elbow  his  way  through  the  crowd  up  to  the  sofa  where 
ehe  sat,  her  head  covered  with  a  turban. 

"  Ah,  Ochlenschiager,"  she  merrily  exclaimed,  holding  out 
her  hand  to  him.  "  I  hope  you  have  brought  your  youngest 
child  with  you  ?  You  do  not  appear  here  as  a  stepfather  ?  " 

The  stiff  Northerner  could  not  adapt  himself  so  suddenly 
to  the  nonclialance  of  her  manner ;  she  acted  as  if  he  had  left 
her  only  yesterday,  while  he  could  not  cross  the  long  interval 
without  a  certain  ceremoniousness.  He  looked  at  her  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  Speak !  speak !  I  wish  to  hear  if  you  have  forgotten  your 
French,"  exclaimed  Madame  de  Stael.  "  We  are  going  to  per- 
form some  proverbs,  llfaut  renouer  la  phrase  interrompue." 

She  then  introduced  him  to  Alexander  von  Humboldt,  whom 
he  had  seen  in  Berlin  ten  years  ago,  and  now  met  here  so  unex- 
pectedly. Augustus  William  Schlegel  greeted  him  soon  after. 
But,  owing  to  the  throng,  no  continued  conversation  was  possi- 
ble. Madame  de  Stael  invited  Ochlenschiager  to  dine  with 
her  on  the  following  day.  Our  poet  was  unable  to  find  his 
shoes  on  that  day,  and  arrived,  therefore,  at  seven,  and  not  at 
six.  Madame  de  Stael  sat  at  a  small  round  table  with  her 
21 


482  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

daughter,  the  Duchess  de  Broglie,  and  two  elderly  ladies.  A 
seat  had  been  reserved  for  OchlenschlSger.  While  the  poet 
tried  to  make  up  for  the  time  which  he  had  lost,  Madame  de 
Stael  congratulated  him  on  the  celebrity  which  he  had  ob- 
tained in  the  North. 

"  What  is  the  North  compared  with  the  earth  ?  "  he  replied, 
alluding  to  her  fame. 

She  inquired  about  Werner,  and  chatted  gayly  about  the  past 
and  present,  the  new  productions  of  literature,  and  the  suc- 
cesses of  their  common  acquaintances,  till  the  hour  of  his  de- 
parture. Rocca  and  Schlegel  did  not  make  their  appearance. 

Madame  de  Stael  now  felt  that  her  strength  was  fast  ebbing 
away.  Great  as  was  her  self-control,  her  will  often  was  power- 
less, and  she  would  then  exclaim, "  Pauvre  nature  humaine  !  " 
Her  physicians  were  at  a  loss  what  to  advise  her.  The  balmy 
air  of  Pisa  had  not  given  her  any  relief,  and  she  was  soon 
unable  to  receive  her  friends  in  the  evening ;  she  had  to  keep 
her  room,  and  often  her  bed. 

Chateaubriand  visited  her  one  morning,  and  was  surprised  to 
hear  that  she  could  no  longer  leave  her  couch.  Only  a  few 
days  ago  he  had  dined  with  her,  and  had  not  suspected  that 
she  was  so  very  sick.  She  received  him  now  in  a  dark  room ; 
supported  by  cushions,  she  sat  in  her  bed,  and  held  out  to  him 
her  emaciated  hand  with  her  old  cordiality. 

It  was  so  dark  in  the  room  that  he  was  at  first  scarcely  able 
to  see  her.  When  he  had  stepped  close  up  to  her,  he  perceived 
on  her  cheek  the  flush  of  the  fatal  fever  which  was  preying 
•  upon  her,  and  which  could  no  longer  be  checked.  Even  in. 
this  gloom,  a  ray  from  her  fine  eyes  met  his  face,  and  she  said 
to  him  kindly : 

"  Son  jour,  my  dear  Francis,  I  am  sick ;  but  that  does  not 
prevent  me  from  loving  you." 


THE    LAST    DREAM    OF    LIFE.  483 

He  took  her  hand  and  pressed  it  in  deep  emotion  to  his  lips, 
for  be  felt  that  he  would  not  often  see  her  again. 

When  he  looked  up,  he  perceived  on  the  other  side  of  the 
bed  a  pale  form  resembling  an  apparition ;  and  upon  fixing  his 
eyes  on  the  figure,  he  discovered  that  it  was  Rocca.    With 
hollow  cheeks,  dim  eyes,  and  his  features  distorted  with  grief, 
the   poor  man  gazed  mournfully  upon  his  sick  friend,  and 
seemed  hardly  to  belong  any  longer  to  life.    Not  a  syllable 
fell  from  his  lips.     He  silently  returned  the  greeting  of  the 
Visitor  by  slightly  nodding  his  head;  he  then  arose  and  left 
the  room  noiselessly.    He  flitted  past  like  a  shade,  casting  a  sig- 
nificant glance  on  the  sick  lady,  who  returned  it.    He  probabry 
wished  to  caution  her  against  aggravating  her  fever  by  engag- 
ing in  an  animated  conversation;  at  all  events,  Chateaubriand 
thought  that  this  was  his  intention. 
"  You  must  husband  your  strength,"  he  said  to  Madame  de 

"  You  should  do  so  for  the  sake  of  your  friends." 
She  smiled  gently. 

"I  cannot  do  so,"  she  said;  "I  have  always  been  true  to 
myself,  sincere,  frank,  and  sad;  fai  aim*  Dieu,  mm  ptre  et  la 
l&ertt" 

"  God  will  preserve  you  to  us  for  a  long  time  ;  for  he  knows 
how  little  we  can  do  without  you,"  replied  Chateaubriand. 

"Ah,  my  dear  Francis,  it  would  be  hard  for  me  to  die  with 
such  a  wealth  of  love  in  my  heart.  I  should  not  like  to  be 
separated  from  Albertine,  neither  here  nor  there.  Ah,  a 
daughter !  You  have  no  idea  how  dearly  I  love  my  daughter 
iny  dear  Francis  ! " 

"But  you  do  not  think  that  you  are  in  danger?"  he  asked 
in  surprise.    "At  your  age  ?    And  with  your  strong  constitu-' 
tion  ?  " 

"Why  not?     Mm  ptre  m'attend  sur  Vautre  lord.    When- 


484  MADAME   DE    STAEL. 

ever  I  think  of  God,  I  must  think  of  my  father,  too.  I  have 
asked  Schlegel  to  write  down  all  my  sentiments  on  this  sub- 
ject. I  have  tried  to  imagine  the  manner  in  which  we  shall 
pass  from  life  to  death,  and  I  am  convinced  that  God  in  His 
mercy  will  render  it  easy  for  us.  Our  ideas  grow  confused, 
our  pains  cease,  and  we  are  no  more.  That,  is  my  idea  of 
death.  With  a  last  thought  of  all  whom  we  love,  we  are  there 
already.  Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  Let  us  not  think  of  it,"  said  Chateaubriand,  soothingly ; 
and,  in  order  not  to  weary  her,  he  left  her  with  the  promise 
that  he  would  soon  repeat  his  visit. 

A  few  days  afterward,  he  received  from  her  an  invitation  to 
dinner.  He  would  scarcely  trust  his  eyes.  Could  she  have 
recovered  so  speedily  ?  It  was  hardly  possible. 

When  he  arrived  at  her  house,  she  was  not  in  the  salon. 
Like  all  patients  in  that  state  of  decline,  she  was  at  times  mis- 
taken as  to  her  condition,  and  believed  herself  to  be  quite  well. 
None  of  her  friends  believed  that  her  life  was  in  danger.  The 
lively  interest  which  she  took  in  everything  that  concerned 
them,  whenever  her  fever  abated,  misled  them.  At  the  dinner- 
table,  Madame  Recamier  asked  M.  de  Chateaubriand  what  he 
thought  of  her  friend's  condition ;  he  gave  an  evasive  answer ; 
for  he  himself  did  not  suspect  that  he  had  already  seen  her  for 
the  last  time. 

Madame  de  Stael  had  removed  to  a  house  on  the  Rue  Neuve 
des  Mathurins ;  but  the  change  had  not  done  her  any  good. 
She  could  not  sleep  in  the  night  time,  and  her  strength  de- 
clined more  and  more.  Her  hand  was  already  unable  to  trace 
legible  characters ;  her  mind  could  no  longer  conceive  clear 
thoughts;  her  life  was  fast  ebbing  away. 

Her  children  were  assembled  round  her  bed ;  a  grateful 
glance  of  love  rewarded  their  faithful  attachment.  The  pale 


THE    LAST    DREAM    OF    LIFE.  485 

Rocca  fixed  his  eyes  on  lier  as  if  unconsciously.  She  faintly 
wrung  his  hand  yet,  as  if  to  console  him  for  his  loss,  which,  she 
knew  full  well,  he  would  not  survive. 

Benjamin  Constant,  his  arms  folded  on  his  breast,  stood  like 
a  marble  statue,  at  some  distance  from  her  couch.  Since  he 
had  acquired  the  conviction  that  he  would  lose  her  for  ever- 
more, both  his  love  for  Madame  Recamier  and  his  ambition 
had  died  away.  He  wrote  no  more  books,  he  made  no  more 
speeches,  he  no  longer  took  any  interest  in  political  affairs. 
Grief  silenced  all  other  emotions  in  his  breast.  The  impending 
death  of  his  friend  aroused  all  his  generous  feelings.  It 
was  not  until  now  that  he  felt  what  Madame  de  Stael  had  been 
to  him,  and  he  believed  he  could  no  longer  achieve  any- 
thing without  her  applause.  He  stood  before  her  in  somber 
silence,  counting  the  years  since  he  had  known  her,  and 
since  she  had  directed  his  steps  with  so  much  generosity  and 
devotedness.  And  now  he  was  to  live  without  her  for  ever- 
more !  He  was  scarcely  able  to  restrain  a  loud  outburst  of  his 
grief. 

Madame  Recamier  sat  in  an  arm-chair  in  a  distant  corner  of 
the  room,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  and  Benjamin  Con- 
stant did  not  vouchsafe  a  glance  to  the  beautiful  lady. 

Augustus  William  Schlegel  appeared  every  now  and  then 
on  tiptoe,  and  asked  in  a  whisper  how  she  was.  This  was 
the  only  interruption  of  the  profound  silence,  amidst  which 
the  hands  of  the  clock  alone  indicated  the  progress  of  time. 
Thus  the  still  hour  of  midnight  approached,  and  Madame 
de  Stael  ceased  to  breathe.  She  had  passed  away  with  de- 
vout faith,  and  in  the  hope  that,  by  the  side  of  her  heavenly 
Father,  she  would  meet  her  own  father,  and  bask  again  in  his 
love. 

Her  children  looked  after  her,  heart-broken  and  in  despair. 


486  MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

The  roses  had  just  disappeared,  when  her  remains  arrived,  in 
a  carriage  hung  in  black,  and  accompanied  by  Schlegel  and 
Augustus  de  Stael,  at  Coppct,  where  they  were  to  be  interred 
in  the  mausoleum  which  she  had  erected  to  her  father.  It 
was  built  of  black  marble;  and  a  bas-relief,  the  design  of 
which  she  had  drawn  herself,  surmounted  the  door.  There 
she  had  knelt,  weeping,  at  the  coffins  of  her  parents,  who 
held  out  to  her  their  hands  from  heaven.  How  often  had 
she  walked  in  the  bosquet  where  it  stood ;  how  often  had 
she  sought  there  consolation  in  mournful  hours ;  how  often 
had  she  prayed  there  alone !  Now  she  was  to  find  repose 
there  for  evermore. 

The  members  of  the  municipality  of  Coppet  carried  her  coffin, 
as  a  p*roof  of  their  love  and  respect  for  her ;  the  whole  council 
of  Geneva  attended  her  funeral.  The  Duke  de  Noailles  had 
hastened  from  his  neighboring  estate  of  Rolle,  to  Coppet,  and 
all  her  friends  and  relatives  arrived  from  far  and  near,  to  pay 
the  last  honors  to  her.  At  her  grave  there  was  read  a  sermon 
written  by  Necker,  and  the  thought  that  her  own  father  thus 
took  part  in  the  funeral  of  his  child,  made  a  deep  impression 
upon  all  mourners. 

Her  will  was  then  read.  It  contained  a  request  to  her  chil- 
dren to  inform  the  world  of  her  union  with  Rocca,  and  to  treat 
the  little  boy,  whom  she  had  born  to  him,  as  a  member  of  their 
family. 

The  bystanders  heard  this  clause  in  surprise.  Benjamin 
Constant  turned  deadly  pale ;  his  eyes  shot  fire,  and  he  looked 
defiance  at  poor  Rocca  for  a  minute  ;  but  then  his  eyes  fell  on 
the  coffin,  and  he  left  the  room  with  a  deep  sigh,  and  disap- 
peared for  a  long  time. 

Rocca,  however,  had  remained  perfectly  apathetic.  He 
had  lost  her ;  what  were  the  affairs  of  this  world  now  to 


THE    LAST    DEE  AM    OF    LIFE.  487 

him  ?    He  went  to  his  brother  in  Provence,  and  died  shortly 
afterward. 

Augustus  de  Stael  became  proprietor  of  Coppet.  Here  he 
led  a  calm  and  grave  life,  devoted  to  the  welfare  of  humanity, 
until  his  premature  death,  by  which  the  name  immortalized 
by  his  mother  became  extinct. 

Natura  lafece  e  poi  ruppe  la  stampa. 


THE  END. 


STEKEOrrPED  BT  DENNIS  BRO'S  *  CO.,  AUBURN,  H.  T. 


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